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voidpetrova · 9 months

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everyone but you — kai parker x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: swearing, sex — fluff, smut

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: he hates everyone in the world but you

✧.*

you never thought you'd be drawn to someone like kai parker. he was manipulative, cruel, and indifferent to the feelings of others. but for some reason, you were different. perhaps it was because you were a supernatural creature yourself, and he could sense it. whatever the reason, he had taken an interest in you, and it had been both thrilling and terrifying.

kai had a reputation for being one of the most vicious and dangerous heretics in the world. he had killed his own family in the past, and he had slaughtered countless others since then. the people of mystic falls knew to fear him, to stay out of his way, and to never let their guard down in his presence.

as previously stated, you were different. you had met kai by chance, and he had taken an immediate liking to you. he had seen something in you that he didn't see in anyone else. maybe it was your intelligence, or your compassion, or your strength. whatever it was, it had drawn him to you like a moth to a flame.

at first, you had been hesitant around him. you had heard the stories about his cruel deeds, and you didn't want to get caught up in his dangerous games. but kai had sensed your reluctance, and he had taken it upon himself to prove to you that he was different. he had shown you a side of himself that no one else had ever seen. he had been kind, considerate, and even charming. he had listened to you when you talked, and he had made you laugh with his witty banter.

over time, you had grown to trust him. you had started to see the good in him, despite his dark past. you had even started to care for him, in a way that scared you. you knew that he was dangerous, that he could break your heart in an instant. but you couldn't help the way you felt.

kai had noticed the change in you, too. he had started to open up to you, to share his thoughts and dreams. he had even told you about his family, and how much he had loved them before he had lost control. it was a side of him that no one else had ever seen, and it made you feel special.

but even as kai opened up to you, his hatred for others remained unchanged. he still saw the world as a cruel and unfair place, and he had no qualms about hurting those who crossed him. It was a constant reminder of the danger that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

one day, you found yourself sitting with kai on the roof of the salvatore mansion, watching the sun set over your little town. It was a peaceful moment, and you were content to sit in silence, enjoying each other's company.

“i hate everyone in the world,” kai said suddenly, breaking the quiet. you turned to him, surprised. “what do you mean?”

“i mean exactly what i said,” kai said, his voice cold and bitter. “there isn't a single person out there who i care about, who i would go to great lengths to protect. except for you, of course."”

you felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “why me?” kai looked at you, his eyes serious. “because you're different. you see me for who i really am, not just the monster that everyone fears. you make me want to be a better person.”

the sincerity in his voice made you heart skip a beat. you reached out to take his hand, and he let you. it was a small gesture, but it meant everything to you. “i care about you, too, kai,” you said softly. “i don't want to see you get hurt."”

kai squeezed your hand in return. “i won't let anyone hurt me, or you. i'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. i promise.”

as the sun sank below the horizon, you and kai sat in silence, lost in your own thoughts. for a moment, you forgot about the danger that surrounded you, the hatred that consumed the world. all you could think about was the person sitting next to you, holding your hand, and promising to protect you.

it was moments like these that made you believe that maybe, just maybe, kai parker wasn't beyond redemption after all.

as you sat there with him, the breeze blowing gently through your hair, you felt a sudden urge to be closer to him. you turned your head to look at him, and before you could even think about it, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. at first, kai seemed stunned by the sudden kiss, but it didn't take him long to respond. he started to kiss you back eagerly, his hand moving to cup your face as he deepened the kiss.

your heart was racing in your chest as you opened your mouth to him, allowing his tongue to explore yours. every nerve in your body seemed to be on fire as you felt kai's hand move to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

as the kiss continued, you couldn't help but feel a sense of euphoria wash over you. you had never felt this way before, so completely lost in a moment with someone else. you felt like you could stay there forever, lost in the warmth of kai's embrace.

but eventually, the kiss had to end. you pulled away slowly, breathing heavily as you looked at kai, seeing the desire in his eyes. before you could say anything, he kissed you again, this time more intensely than before. all of your senses were overwhelmed as you kissed kai, his hands running up and down your back.

unable to resist the magnetic pull between you, you broke away from the kiss, gasping for breath. your eyes met as you silently communicated the desire to continue this stolen moment somewhere more private.

without a word, kai took your hand in his, his grip firm but gentle, as he led you down the stairs and through the house. the familiar creaking of the wooden steps echoed through the empty hallways as you followed him, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins. finally, kai pushed open a door that led to one of the guest bedrooms. the room was dimly lit, casting playful shadows across the walls and creating an intimate ambiance. his blue eyes locked onto yours, filled with a raw intensity that made your insides flutter.

as the door closed behind you, the atmosphere changed, charged with an electric energy. slowly, kai closed the distance between you, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he pressed his lips against yours once more.

his kiss was hungry, passionate, as if he had been starved of affection for centuries. the scent of him, a mixture of pine and a hint of magic, intoxicated your every sense, sparking an unquenchable fire within you. you fervently responded, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer to you.

every brush of kai's lips against yours was like a delicious torment, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire within you that burned hotter than any magic spell. his hands roamed your body, mapping out every curve, as if he were memorizing every inch of you. you felt his lips travel along your jawline, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses. his hot breath tickled your skin, and you couldn't help but moan softly in response. the sound seemed to ignite a primal hunger within kai, as he pressed his body against yours with even greater urgency.

lost in a sea of desire, you tackled each article of clothing, needing to feel each other's bare skin against your own. with every touch, every connection, the tension between you intensified, pushing you both to the brink of sanity.

with a content sigh, you snuggled closer to Kai, feeling his warmth and his presence enveloping you. you were completely at ease with him, and as you gazed up at him, you knew that nothing could ever come between you. he bent his head, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, “i love you, (y/n).”

the words were like a seductive caress, sending shivers down your spine and leaving you breathless. you felt his hand move to cup your breast, his thumb stroking over your nipple, sending a shiver through your body. you responded in kind, your hand sliding down to his waist, feeling the heat of his body through his clothes. you felt his cock, hard and pulsing against your stomach, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride that this man, this beast, this monster, was yours.

with a groan, kai rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were straddling him. his eyes were feral, his lust and desire palpable as he stared up at you. “i need you,” he growled, his voice rough and husky. “i need to be inside you.”

you knew that he meant it, that he wanted you to take him, to claim him as yours. with a small smile, you nodded, your heart beating wildly as you sank onto him, feeling the heat and the power of him.

for a moment, time stood still. you were lost in the moment, lost in each other, and nothing else mattered. it was just you and kai, two creatures bound together by a force that was both magical and all too real.

as you began to move, the world faded away, leaving only you and kai, together in a perfect harmony. the sound of your flesh meeting was like a symphony of passion. the smoothness of your skin against his, the way your bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces, was a blissful harmony that seemed to soothe the very essence of your souls.

you felt his hand move, his fingers tweaking your nipples, sending a surge of electricity through your body. you could feel the heat of his skin against your chest, the rhythm of his heart against your cheek.

for a moment, you were lost in the sensation, lost in the feeling of being completely and utterly surrounded by kai. there was no world beyond him, no past, no future, just the two of you, intertwined and bound together.

and then, as if on cue, the world reappeared. the sound of birds chirping outside, the faint scent of flowers wafting in from the garden, reminded you that you were not alone.

you looked down at kai, seeing the expression on his face, the lust and desire still burning in his eyes. and you knew that this was a bond that would never be broken, a connection that transcended time and space.

“i love you so much, (y/n).”

“i love you, too.”

with a small smile, you leaned in to kiss him, your lips meeting in a soft, sweet kiss that was filled with love and passion. and as you did, you knew that nothing could ever come between you two. Not the world, not the past, not even the future.

you were his, and he was yours, forever and always.

#tvd #tvdu #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries fluff #the vampire diaries angst #the vampire diaries smut #kai parker #kai parker x you #kai parker fluff #kai parker x reader #kai parker smut

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imfinereallyy · 18 days

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I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 4

part 1 part 2 pt. 3

this one i am excited for, i hope you guys like it...

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

February 1991, Chicago

Robin has a particular hatred for winter rain. It’s cold, damp and makes everything grey. She doesn't mind the rain in the summer—where it makes everything smell fresh and makes all the greens look bright.

Winter rain, though? Belongs in a circle of hell.

Admittedly, it's more than the way the downpour chills her to the bone. It's always a bad omen, a sign of what's to come. Most people find her paranoid, except Steve. He always nods his head in understanding; Robin can't tell if it's because he just understands her or because the winter rain makes his bones ache.

Robin shakes the water out of her hair as she walks up the steps to her apartment with Steve and Eddie. The bad feeling in her stomach doesn't ease up, creeping further and further up her throat until she worries she might choke on it. She takes her time going up the six flights of stairs, taking deep breaths, convincing herself that everything is fine and it's all in her head.

By the time she makes it to the door, Robin feels lighter.

Pushing through the doorway, Robin lets a small smile rest on her lips as her eyes look around to see who's home.

Her eyes land on Steve, head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

It's then she notices Steve is home, but Eddie isn't.

Steve lifts his head, tears in his eyes. "He's gone, Robs. Eddie left."

The rain could eat shit. Fuck.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Robin waits until Steve leaves and a few minutes extra before making her way into the living room.

She knows the bastard is still here; Robin saw it coming from a mile away.

Trudging towards the couch in Steve's boxers and what she is sure is her ex-girlfriend's t-shirt, Robin smacks Eddie upside the head.

Hard.

"Ow! What the fuck, Buckley?" Eddie squirms, rubbing his head with a pout.

"Oh, shut it, Munson. You know that a slap is the least of your worries. You better believe something on you will be broken by the time you leave again." Robin huffs, her face going red.

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Will you at least come talk to me before you cause me more bodily harm?" He pats the spot on the couch next to him like it isn't Robin's fucking couch.

Robin begrudgingly decides he's right and plops down next to him with a glare. "Trust me, Munson. We will be doing plenty of talking. And by we, I mean me."

"Don't you want to hear my sid—Ow! Birdie, for the love of god, stop hitting me." Eddie rubs his arm.

"No."

"No you won't hear me out, or no you won't stop hitting me?"

Robin levels him with a look so vicious that she is almost certain if he holds eye contact any longer, he will be set on fire.

Eddie's shoulder's slump, "Right."

Robin huffs through her nose, trying to fight back a smile. She will not crack around this idiot, even if torturing him brings her a special kind of joy. "Munson, unless the reason was 'if you didn't leave, Steve was going to die,' then you don't have a good reason."

A small smile makes its way onto Eddie's face, and Robin lightly slaps his knee. "Why are you smiling? You don't get to smile right now."

Eddie deosn't even flinch, "Nothing, it's just you specified Steve dying, and not the two of you or anyone else. Like Steve dying would be the issue. It's nice to see some things never change."

"You see that's where you're wrong, Munson." Robin gets really close in his face, "We've only gotten worse."

Eddie's smile is a full-blown grin now. Robin can't help but be a little charmed.

If Robin is honest with herself, and Steve encourages her to do so more often, she really misses Eddie. Despite her being angry at him, she's happy to have him here to be angry at. But once she's over that, she will be kicking him the fuck out of their apartment.

Something twisted lands in Robin's stomach as she makes her way back into her spot on the couch. Eddie doesn't get it that he left them. He left not just Steve but Robin, too. They were best friends, and suddenly, he's gone.

And on top of that, Robin had to watch Steve crumble, and it just isn't something she thinks she can ever get over.

For years, Robin watched Steve pick himself up over and over again. Resilient, brave, and sometimes a little stupid. That's her Steve. But after Eddie left, she was worried that this time he wouldn't get back up.

She can't go through that again.

Unfortunately though, Robin fears she might need Eddie's fucking help with something.

These boys will be the death of her.

"No more smiling, Munson. This is serious." Robin clears her throat.

"Right." His grin slips off his face. "You were saying you wanted to do the talking?"

Robin looks to the doorway, nervous. As if Steve is going to walk through any moment, despite not leaving all that long ago. She just knows how dates with Drew go. Sometimes Steve will come home early, frustrated and quiet, closed off in ways she hasn't seen in a long time. Other times he won't come home for days, Drew deciding he needed some alone time with Steve.

Robin isn't sure which she hates more.

She shakes her head, knowing she is being unreasonable—not on the hating Drew part (which is really what it is, down to its core) but on Steve coming back early. No matter what happens between Steve and Drew, Robin knows he is dreading coming back to this apartment with Eddie in it or, even worse, with Eddie gone.

"You're going to help me."

Eddie's eyebrows furrow, and Robin almost expects him to question it, to demand answers. Instead, he surprises her. "Okay, what do you need?"

Robin takes a deep breath, "We need to get Steve out of a bad relationship."

Worry falls over Eddie's face, "Is he okay? What happened? Is she hurting him?"

Ah. Robin forgot about that part. Eddie doesn't exactly know about Steve's sexuality. It isn't like the man isn't out—Steve has been out to their friends for years now—but it feels wrong to tell Eddie without consulting Steve yet.

She is going to have to work around it.

"Steve's...fine." Robin doesn't reall know actually. Lately, it's been like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk about Drew. She fucking hates that man. "He's unhappy, though. This person isn't good for him, and I think me saying it isn't enough."

Eddie rubs a hand down his face, "And how am I supposed to help that? Steve doesn't exactly want me around." His arms gesture towards the room in a dramatically flair.

Oh, this silly, silly man, Robin thinks. Unfortunately, he's exactly what Robin needs—more specifically, what Steve needs.

"True."

"Okay, hurtful."

Robin waves him off, "I'm not going to lie to you, Munson. We are both pissed at you. But I am worried about Steve. And I care more about him than I am angry at you. Despite all the shit you did, he cares about you. Because this is Steve. He cares a whole lot and gives a whole bunch without expecting anything. And he deserves better. And I think—no, I know, if he has two of his oldest friends showing him that, maybe he'll listen."

Robin fails to mention that regardless of how this plan goes, she will have her revenge on Eddie, to, ya know, even the score.

Eddie huffs through his nose, "Okay. Of course, I'll help. Besides, I was already planning on sticking around. I don't want to run away, not this time."

"Good." Robin lets a small smile slip onto her face, "Besides, you're a terrible athlete. Don't know why you insist on trying."

A dry laugh escapes Eddie, "Wow, thanks, Bridie. Missed you too."

Robin pushes him playfully. "If you're gonna stick around, maybe I'll hear you out, Eddie. But not now. Not yet. Don't know if this going to be long term; consider this a temporary truce."

Robin expects him to whine and contest it, but instead, Eddie looks delighted. "You called me Eddie."

Robin groans, "Don't ruin it."

Eddie grabs her hand, their rings clanking against each other, and gives it a squeeze. "Sorry, no take backs."

Robin says nothing, but squeezes back.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

i don't get to write her pov very often, but it is so fun. next update we will finally get a peak into Eddie's whole deal. Tag list is closed, but you can put notifs on the first part, I always put the link on the there.

tag list! (closed):

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso @yesdangerpls @themoonagainstmers

@lingermirth @steddiecameraroll @my2amgaythoughts @stevah-hawcett @steventhusiast

@adealwithher @antonymeanonyme @stevah-hawcett @samsoble @mugloversonly

@stripey82 @anaibis @mycatsstolemybiscuit @flustratedcas @alfhitchblonde

@s0ft-strawberries @slavicviking @theheadlessphilosopher @friendlyorange @lunaraquaenby

@l1lpip @emmabubbles @arepaconchocolate @scooby-dum86 @awkwardgravity1

@thesuninyaface @hallo-spaceb0y @dykelips @bookbinderbitch @valinwonderland

#see? it's getting happier #kinda #trust me it's going happy places #we just gotta build #also thanks for the hype it motivates me #also i know some of you at this point live in my walls #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #my writing #platonic stobin #ficlet #angst #hurt comfort #i wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind)#ao3

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obey-me-disaster · 10 months

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How about an MC that comes back wrong after Belphie kills them? Kind of Jason Todd after he gets dumped in the Lazarus Pit (if you're a DC fan).

Before they get unalived they were the sweetest person ever. Kind, soft, gentle, patient, generous, would rather die than hurt someone's feelings - basically the closest to an angel a human can be.

But after the attic incident, they're all twisted, like death corrupted them. They're still the same MC - they look, sound and have the same memories - but it's like their personality has pulled a 180.

They're harsh, hostile, cold. They go out of their way to ignore everyone and when they do communicate, it's mainly snarky, emotionless remarks. They're full of negativity and it's like they're incapable of having any positive emotions. The only smiles MC gives anyone are full of malice. Not even the undateables are spared from them (just imagine the hurt and confusion poor Luke, Simeon and Solomon feel when their warm-hearted friend acts as though they've been body-snatched for no reason at all one day)

So how would the brothers react to that?

Poor Luke, imagine how sad he would be if MC is mean to him out of nowhere

Demon brothers x gn!MC

MC comes back to life all twisted

Lucifer

He will try to make MC redirect all of their hatred towards him. He has always been the kind to try and take all the pain and this won't be an exception.

His sees this whole ordeal as his fault and he will not let MC bring more harm to themself or his brothers.

He will try to bring them back to their old self. As along as MC doesn't harm his brothers in any way, he will let himself become the victim of their emotionless remarks.

God forbid MC would try anything with the pacts at that time MC didn't get a pact with either Luci or Belphie.

He doesn't want to bring any harm to MC, especially that they are like this due to his negligence, but he won't hesitate to stand up to them in order to protect his brothers.

Mammon

He probably has it the worst out of everyone. He lost both his best friend and the person that was the nicest to him in a matter of seconds.

Still sticks to their side, even if they treat him like shit. He feels like he owns them at least that after failing to protect them.

He is already used to being treated like shit by the witches, so MC being full of malice won't be anything new, at least that's what be wants to tell himself. In reality it hurts way more seeing a person that used to be so warm and kind being hostile towards him.

Will try to see if there is any way he could 'wake up' MC and get them back to normal.

Leviathan

This isn't the type of twisted MC he is into looks at the 2021 HDD MC

All the confidence he has built up until that point with MC's help will be crushed by none other than the human that he considered his player two.

He would go between locking himself up in his room and trying to help his Henry. It's quite the vicious cycle where his self image just gets worse and worse, especially when he sees that MC keeps on being heartless to him. At some point he will just give up and take all of the heartless remarks since in his mind he deserves them.

Satan

He would throw himself into research in order to turn them back to their kind and nice self. To the person who helped see that he is more than Lucifer's shadow and more than the sin of wrath.

There is also the fact that he would get angry at MC and would have to leave their side A LOT. And the worst part? MC probably take pleasure in that.

He would try to help them only to leave cause if he would have stayed for more time in their presence he would have went all demon form on them. He hates that he feels anger towards them, which only leads to feeling wrath towards himself.

Asmodeus

This man is crushed. The person that loved him for who he is, who didn't need to be charmed in order to like him suddenly lost all of their love for him.

Each time he makes eye contact with MC he can feel how they're mocking him. They no longer adore him, and no amount of his charm or effort would make MC look at him with an adoring gaze.

He is probably the one that is ignored the most by MC. They know that Asmo wants their attention, even if it's in the form of hate, so they always act like he doesn't exist.

Beelzebub

This just adds to his survivor's guilt. First he sees MC dying and then they come back all twisted.

MC would probably attack where it hurts the most and make Beel feel like he is a failure of a protector.

He would keep on trying to reach out to MC to help them only to be rudely pushed aside. He would even try to give them his food as a peace offer but of course that wouldn't work.

He would go between refusing to eat due to the guilt eating him from the inside and eating way more than usual to ignore the situation.

Belphegor

He is about to get a dose of his own medicine.

Any chance of making up with MC or having a normal relationship with his brothers is out of the window.

MC is no longer the same and he has no way to make it up to them. And since MC is all twisted, they won't help him mend his relationship with his brothers. MC being all mean might make the whole situation worse.

He might or might now still offer his pact to them, but this time as a way for them to punish him and leave his brothers alone.

A/N: sorry for the long wait since the last post, I have been stuck with both volunteering at a festival and writer's block :')

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pin-k-ink · 7 days

Text

push and pull // feitan portor

tw ⇢ hate fucking, kinda rivals to lovers, mentions of violence and injuries, sexual tension, grinding, fingering, biting, cunnilingus, squirting, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cum-eating, implied voyeurism, rough sex, manhandling, overstimulation, feitan spanks you once

wc ⇢ 8.7k

a/n: this man is so difficult to write for 💀

The dimly lit hideout reeked of stale blood and smoke, the dank air carrying the weight of countless atrocities committed within its walls. In one corner, you and Feitan squared off, teeth bared and murder in your eyes.

"You son of a bitch," you snarled, fists clenched so tightly your nails bit into your palms. "That was my kill."

Feitan scoffed, his expression one of utter disdain. "Tch. As if a pathetic worm like you deserves the honor." His lips curled in a sneer. "I was putting that fool out of his misery before you botched the job...again."

A vein throbbed in your temple as you took a threatening step forward. "I'll show you who's pathetic, you arrogant little shit."

Before either of you could strike, a massive figure inserted itself between you, Nobunaga's broad chest blocking your path. "Enough!" he bellowed, dark eyes flashing dangerously. "Unless you want Chrollo brought into this, I suggest you two back off."

You and Feitan held each other's glare for a beat longer before grudgingly disengaging. As you turned away, Feitan spat a glob of phlegm that landed disturbingly close to your feet.

"This isn't over," he promised, voice laced with quiet menace.

Grinding your teeth, you fought the urge to whirl back around and rip Feitan's throat out with your bare hands. The only thing staying your hand was the unspoken rule against infighting - a rule that both of you constantly tested the limits of.

"One of these days..." you trailed off meaningfully.

Feitan's lip curled in a feral grin. "I can't wait."

As he slunk off into the shadows, you turned your frustrated glower on Nobunaga. The samurai met your look with an impassive stare.

"You two need to get your shit together," he stated bluntly. "These pissing contests are getting old."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Nobunaga raised a hand, cutting you off.

"I don't want to hear it. Take that shit outside if you must, but if you compromise one more mission with your bullshit, Chrollo will have both your heads."

Fuming silently, you could only nod in grudging agreement. Everyone in the Troupe knew better than to risk incurring their leader's wrath.

As Nobunaga wandered off, you allowed some of the tension to bleed from your shoulders with a weary sigh. Your eyes drifted to the corner where Feitan had disappeared, cold hatred settling into the pit of your stomach.

The next few days were a tense affair, the air thick with animosity every time you and Feitan occupied the same space. You traded insults and thinly veiled threats like volleys, each one more creatively vicious than the last.

"I heard the bakery down the street got a new shipment of rat poison," Feitan would muse idly, his dark eyes glittering. "I could slip some into your dinner if you'd like to try it."

You responded with a saccharine smile. "Why thank you, that's so considerate. But I ate rat poison for breakfast...your severed head on a platter is what I'm really craving."

The other Spiders quickly learned to give you both a wide berth during these escalating verbal sparring matches. Only Machi seemed unperturbed, rolling her eyes at your juvenile antics with a disdainful sniff.

The tension finally reached a breaking point a week later during a routine mission. Tasked with shaking down a local merchant for unpaid tribute, you and Feitan bickered the entire way over the most effective interrogation methods.

"If you so much as look at him wrong, I'll string you up by your entrails," Feitan hissed as you approached the target's store.

You barked out a harsh laugh. "As if I need pointers from an edgy little runt like you. I'll make this idiot squeal like a stuck pig while you watch and learn, shrimp."

The ensuing encounter quickly devolved into a pissing contest between the two of you over who could dole out the most creatively brutal threats and violence. By the time Pakunoda and Nobunaga arrived to collect you, the merchant was a blubbering, bloodied mess - the money long forgotten.

"This is the third time this month you idiots have fouled up a simple job," Pakunoda stated, her voice laced with barely restrained fury. "I've had enough of your bullshit."

Before either of you could react, her ability slammed into you both with the force of a typhoon. You slumped to the ground, mind wiped utterly blank as she extracted your memories of the incident.

When you came to a few moments later, Feitan was already lurching to his feet with a groan. You shot him a venomous glare, to which he responded by spitting a thick gobbet of blood at your feet.

"Starting to think you actually enjoy getting knocked around like that," you sneered, struggling to stand.

Feitan's eyes flashed with murderous rage. "Why you little-"

"ENOUGH!" Pakunoda's shout shook the room. "The next time you two sabotage a mission with your idiocy, I'll make sure you never remember your own names again. Am I making myself clear?"

You clenched your jaw but nodded stiffly. As much as you hated to admit it, the woman's threatening ability terrified you on a primal level.

In the ensuing silence, you cut your gaze towards Feitan, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. A thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, crimson stark against his pallid skin.

Despite your blinding loathing for the cocky little bastard, you couldn't deny the dark flicker of something else that stirred within you at the sight. You quickly smothered it beneath your ire.

One day, you vowed silently. One day, this powder keg would finally ignite.

The hideout was unnervingly quiet when the rest of the Troupe returned that evening. An eerie hush had settled over the dingy space, the kind of stillness that made the hairs on the back of one's neck prickle with unease.

As the group ventured deeper inside, the first drops of blood became visible - dark splatters marring the concrete floor. Nobunaga tensed, hand straying towards the sword slung across his back as they followed the grisly trail around a corner.

What they found then pulled them all up short, eyes widening in a mixture of shock and disgust. You and Feitan were in the center of the room, a tangled heap of flailing limbs and bloodied violence.

A feral snarl ripped from Feitan's throat as he tried in vain to dislodge you from where you'd pinned his smaller frame. In the struggle, his shirt had been shredded, exposing a mottled tapestry of dark bruises across his sinewy torso.

You weren't faring much better. Your face was a ruined mess - eyes swollen, lip split and gushing, vivid bite marks scoring your throat and shoulders. Despite the beating, you clung to him like a rabid animal, hands scrabbling for purchase to finish him.

"You crazy bitch!" Feitan's harsh pants turned your name into a vicious slur as he bucked and thrashed.

In response, you drove your elbow towards his face with sickening force, not caring that his head snapped back hard enough to crack against the floor. Bloodied spittle flecked his cheek as you leaned in close, lips peeling back in a manic snarl of your own.

"That all you got, runt?" You wheezed out a breathless laugh, nails gouging deep furrows into Feitan's straining throat. "I was hoping for more of a fight before I killed you."

A guttural growl bubbled up from Feitan's chest as his hips snapped upwards with bruising force, momentarily dislodging you. The two of you rolled, a flurry of grappling limbs and tattered clothing, each desperately struggling for the upper hand to deliver the killstroke.

It was Machi who finally intervened, upper lip curled in a sneer of revulsion. With a deft flick of her nen threads, she sliced through the melee and bound you both - Feitan hog-tied and you lashed spread-eagle to the floor.

"Enough of this depraved idiocy," she bit out, dark eyes flickering with disgust. "You're both lucky we don't slit your throats here and now for such weakness."

Feitan strained furiously against his bonds, deathly pale except for the mottled mess of his ruined face. His gaze swung wildly between you and the other Spiders, feral and uncomprehending.

You simply laid there, chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. Spitting out a thick gobbet of blood, you turned your head slowly until your battered gaze met Feitan's. A dark, unreadable look passed between you both - something haunted and turbulent flickering behind the hatred and violence.

If the rest of the Troupe noticed, they said nothing. Gathering themselves, they began to disperse - leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage until Chrollo could decide your punishment.

Chrollo's expression was utterly impassive as he surveyed the two of you - bruised, battered shells of your former selves after that vicious brawl. His lips quirked ever so slightly as he took in your defiant glares, eyes flickering with loathing.

"You two have become a liability," he stated, voice devoid of inflection. "Your pathetic inability to control yourselves nearly compromised everything we've built."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Chrollo raised a slender hand, effectively silencing you.

"Normally, I would have Pakunoda wipe your memories clean and be done with it." His eyes bored into you, glacial and unrelenting. "However, I have another task that requires your...unique talents."

Feitan made a rude noise of derision from where he sat slumped against the wall. You shot him a withering glare before turning an expectant look back towards your leader.

"You will attend the DeMario charity gala in two weeks' time," Chrollo continued calmly. "Posing as a wealthy couple, you'll insinuate yourselves into the inner circles and extract information from Marcello Randazzo - rumored to be a prolific collector of rare antiquities."

The implication hung heavy in the air for a beat before the weight of it slammed into you full force. Your mouth fell open in disbelief as you turned an incredulous look on Feitan, who was already visibly bristling with outrage.

"You can't be serious," you sputtered, temper flaring hot and bright. "There's no way in hell I'm playing make-believe as that bastard's lover!"

"Over my dead body." Feitan's low, raspy voice was laced with venom. "I'd sooner claw my own eyes out than be seen on that bitch's arm."

Chrollo's eyes flashed warningly and you felt the slightest prickle of his powerful aura washing over you, a silent threat. "You'll do as I command. Unless you'd both prefer to follow the fate of the hostages we collected from that ill-advised debt collection?"

He let the unspoken threat hang in the air for a long moment before continuing.

"I'm sure Marcello's information is worth playing along for an evening. Unless you'd prefer some...permanent disciplinary actions?"

You and Feitan held each other's murderous look for a moment longer before grudgingly turning your gazes away in submission. As much as you despised each other, neither of you were foolish enough to legitimately cross Chrollo.

"I expect you'll both conduct yourselves with aplomb and professionalism befitting our reputation," your leader stated flatly. "Any further disruptions or unbecoming behavior, and I'll have Pakunoda take away more than just your memories of the gala."

With that ominous warning, he swept from the room, leaving you and Feitan alone to simmer in your mutual resentment and disgust.

Seconds ticked by, taut with palpable tension, before you finally broke the silence with a contemptuous sneer.

"I hope you know how to dance, Portor," you bit out acidly. "I have a strong urge to grind my heel into those stumpy little feet of yours."

Feitan's eyes slitted with murderous promise as he levered himself upright with a pained grunt.

"Keep dreaming," he shot back caustically. "I'll be counting the minutes until I can slit that pretty throat of yours without consequence."

As your vicious glares clashed and held, it was abundantly clear that this mission posing as lovers would be anything but smooth sailing. For both your sakes, you could only hope the inevitable storm wouldn't capsize everything you'd built.

The ornate dressing room was suffused with tension as thick as the heavy perfume hanging in the air. You sat rigidly before the gilded vanity, jaw clenched tight as Machi deftly styled your hair into an elegant updo.

"Would you relax?" The girl's voice held a hint of irritation. "You're as wound up as a clockspring."

You shot her a venomous look in the mirror's reflection. "Forgive me if I'm not exactly eager to play Ken and Barbie with that sadistic little gnome."

A snort of muffled laughter came from the chaise where Shizuku and Pakunoda were laid out, idly inspecting their phone screens. You pivoted to fix them with a withering glare.

"Something amusing?"

Shizuku shook her head quickly, eyes widening innocently even as her lips twitched with suppressed mirth. Pakunoda simply arched one sculpted brow in a look of infinite disdain.

"Must you be so crass?" The blonde's dulcet tones somehow managed to sound derisive. "This is an important mission, not some childish game."

"Tell that to our 'esteemed leader'," you bit out acidly, making air-quotes. "Playing dress-up as Feitan's loving wife is about the sickest joke I've ever heard."

Machi made a soft noise of disgust as she speared another jeweled hairpin into place. "You're both behaving like petulant children. This is simply a job - nothing more. The sooner you and Feitan stop acting like lovesick buffoons, the smoother this night will go."

Her reprimand struck a nerve and you opened your mouth to deliver a biting retort when a sharp rap at the door cut you off. A moment later, Feitan slipped into the room, looking equal parts irritated and sheepish in his elegant tuxedo and slicked-back hair.

Your breath caught momentarily in your throat as you took in his appearance. Despite the permanent scowl etched onto his features, he cleaned up...well. The fine charcoal suit hugged the lean lines of his muscled frame in a way that should have been illegal.

Just as quickly, you smothered the errant thought, sneering at him in disdain. "Well, well, if it isn't Feitan Portor himself, dressed up like someone finally house-trained him."

Feitan's eyes flashed and he opened his mouth - no doubt to deliver a scathing rebuttal - when Machi smoothly interjected.

"Enough, you two." She leveled you both with a quelling look. "The car is ready, so I suggest you get your acts together before I tie you both up in nen threads to keep you in line."

An ominous threat given her prowess with her sadistic ability. You bit back the retort burning on your tongue and forced yourself to take a steadying breath. God, this night was going to be interminable.

Rising fluidly, you smoothed your hands down the shimmering fabric of your evening gown, subtly reveling in the way Feitan's eyes automatically tracked the movement before flicking away. Feeling petty, you allowed your lips to curve into a taunting smirk.

"Well, shall we, dear?" You crooned the endearment like a slur, watching his jaw tense infinitesimally. "I can already smell the misery wafting from those uppity pricks just waiting to be robbed blind."

Feitan's look could have curdled milk, but he extended his arm stiffly all the same. As you entwined yours through the crook of his elbow, his fingertips brushed feather-light against the bare skin of your back, raising gooseflesh in their wake.

"Lead the way, wife" he bit out with obvious distaste. "Try not to embarrass me too terribly in front of the marks."

Your derisive laughter was a caustic thing as you allowed him to escort you towards the exit.

"Oh Feitan, we're way past embarrassing at this point. I'd say this night is primed to be a total shitshow."

His dark chuckle echoed yours as you departed the dressing room - a soft, shared sound that somehow managed to sound equal parts threatening and thrilling.

The sleek town car purred to a stop before the opulent entranceway, and you took a steadying breath before allowing Feitan to assist you out onto the crimson carpet. Despite the months of rigorous training and countless assignments in your bloody career, you couldn't deny the flutters of trepidation in your stomach.

This was it - the moment to see if you two idiotic sadists could pull off playing a loving couple without slitting each other's throats.

Feitan's hand was firm at your elbow as you ascended the grand staircase, his expression locked in a rictus of forced neutrality. Up close, you could make out the barest hint of cologne wafting from him - something earthy and sophisticated that shouldn't have appealed, yet had your throat tightening oddly all the same.

Then you were sweeping through the arched doors and into the spectacle of the ballroom itself. A dazzling kaleidoscope of glittering crystal and jewel-toned decor assaulted the senses. The hum of cultured chatter and tinkling laughter washed over you as you took in the crowd of Yorknew's social elite, all decked in their finest attire.

You felt Feitan tense almost imperceptibly beside you before he was smoothly taking the lead, guiding you further into the fray with a proprietary hand at the small of your bare back. A shiver traced your spine at the contact, though from revulsion or something else, you couldn't say.

"Try not to look so much like a viper about to strike, dear," he murmured against your ear, voice a surprising low rumble. "We're supposed to be the picture of marital bliss, remember?"

You bit back the instinctive need to elbow him in the throat, instead pasting on a sickly-sweet smile.

"Of course, darling. Though with how titillating you look in that dashing suit, I may have trouble keeping my hands off you in public."

His lips quirked in a mockery of a grin, even as his dark eyes remained flat and assessing. For all his bravado, Feitan was firmly in killer-mode, scanning the ballroom with cold calculation.

Playing along, you looped one arm through his, allowing your free hand to roam almost territorially over the fine material of his jacket as you began to mingle with the other revelers. With each new cluster of mark- ahem, guest you engaged, you felt yourself relaxing infinitesimally into the role of the devoted wife on her husband's arm. Feitan too, seemed to warm to the act, his featherlight touches and heated murmurs just skirting the line between play-acting and something darker, more authentic.

It wasn't until you were deep in conversation with one of Randazzo's alleged underbosses that the illusion flickered momentarily. Leaning in conspiratorially, you relayed the crucial details you'd extracted about the mobster's dealings in the black market antiquities trade. But when you glanced up to share a weighted look with your "husband", you found Feitan's gaze was distinctly...elsewhere.

Following his stare, you bit back an irritated hiss at the realization that his attention had been utterly diverted by the low neckline of your evening gown, eyes firmly trained on the swell of exposed cleavage. His tongue darted out to wet his lips unconsciously as he drank in the view.

"Feitan!" You hissed out the side of your mouth, snapping your fingers to regain his focus. "Are you listening, or are my tits really that mesmerizing?"

He startled, gaze snapping guiltily upwards as you fixed him with a heated glare. For a beat, Feitan seemed utterly nonplussed, caught completely off-guard in a rare moment of distracted...appreciation? Honesty? His eyes were wide and molten in a way you'd never seen before - utterly disarming.

Then the mask slammed back into place with a nearly audible click, and he simply arched one brow in response.

"My apologies, dear. You were saying?"

And just like that, you were speaking to the most dangerous man in the room once again, cold and brutally efficient. Swallowing hard, you relayed the rest of the intel automatically, even as something restless took up residence beneath your breastbone - an odd, disquieting feeling sparked by that split-second glimpse of whatever it was you'd seen flickering behind Feitan's eyes.

As you continued to circulate through the crowd and ply your roles, you found yourself stealing sidelong glances at your diminutive partner more frequently than was wise. Each time, it was to find him in typical form - lethal focus etched across his features, not a hair out of place or a single tell to betray...whatever it was you'd witnessed earlier.

The grand ballroom seemed to bleed into a hazy blur around you as the waltz began, the opening strains of the orchestra swelling through the cavernous space. Feitan's hand found your waist with surprising gentleness, pulling you into the first steps of the dance.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other, the newfound proximity seeming to crackle with a charge you refused to put a name to. Up close like this, you could make out the faintest dusting of freckles across the sharp planes of his cheekbones, the dark fan of his lashes. Little details you'd never noticed - or never allowed yourself to notice until now.

"I must say, dear wife," he murmured, voice a dark rumble that shivered across your skin. "You clean up rather nicely for a miserable little gutter rat."

You arched one brow coolly, refusing to be baited even as you moved seamlessly with him across the floor. "I'm surprised you can recognize 'nice' through that perverse little killer's lens of yours, darling husband."

His lips quirked in a semblance of a grin, though it held no mirth - only the same lingering malice that seemed to follow you both like a sickly perfume.

"The better to watch every tantalizing inch of you with, my vicious little vixen." His grip tightened fractionally at your waist, fingertips brushing bare skin. "Perhaps I'll have to stake my claim more...thoroughly later."

You scoffed loudly, allowing your palm to roam down the firm plane of his chest as you spun in seamlessly for the next figure.

"Trying to whisper sweet nothings won't get you far, darling. I've heard more creative threats from preschoolers."

Feitan simply hummed deep in his throat, a rough sound that inexplicably raised the fine hairs along the back of your neck. His gaze, when you met it again, had taken on a dark, hooded quality that had heat pooling low in your belly despite yourself.

"Say what you will, wife," he practically purred, dipping you in a slow, lingering arc that brought your bodies into sinful alignment. "We both know those pretty little lips were made for better uses than childish barbs."

His thumb caressed your chin with barely-there tenderness as he pulled you upright again, scorching your skin like a brand. For an endless second, you simply swayed there in silence, chests brushing with every stuttering inhale, caught in the molten undertow of his stare.

Dimly, you registered the buzz of an alarmed voice echoing over the sound system, followed by the unmistakable wail of police sirens dopplering towards the estate. Masks began slipping as guests registered the threat, panic seeping into the ballroom like a tenuous haze.

In that moment, time seemed to splinter apart kaleidoscopically, stretching and scattering until all that remained was the unnameable thing gripping your heart in its stifling vise. You turned back to Feitan, already anticipating the vicious string of threats ready to tumble from his lips as your covers were blown apart.

But there was no anger simmering in those unfathomable depths this time - only a searing sort of intensity that pinned you in place, ignited something low and precarious in your core that you didn't dare put a name to. His fingers were still ghosting across the curve of your jaw, a scorching benediction that somehow managed to convey both possession and worship in the same toxic mix.

You watched, utterly transfixed, as he leaned in with aching slowness, lips brushing the softest whisper against the thrumming pulse at your throat. Then he simply held there, breath searing like a brand, driving ragged splinters of sensation rocketing through your body.

"Run," he rasped, the barest brushing of sound against your superheated skin.

Just like that, the spell was shattered, reality cleaving back into your field of vision as distant shouts and shattering crystal rent the atmosphere. Feitan's fingers slipped from your skin, leaving a throbbing ache of loss in their wake as he pivoted and simply vanished through the thickening crowd.

Blinking dazedly, you found your limbs unlocking woodenly as you staggered into motion, following the only directive that seemed to make sense as the ballroom descended into pandemonium. One foot in front of the other as your heart jackhammered double-time in your ribcage, coursing with an unfamiliar feeling that felt a hell of a lot like it was tearing you apart from the inside.

Run. The word seemed to echo inside your skull as you fled through the service exit, a ghost's refrain. Though from what - the explosion of chaos around you or the cataclysm blooming deep within, you weren't entirely sure.

All you knew was that you would never be the same after this night. How could you when Feitan had irrevocably annihilated every fragile barrier you'd constructed between you, leaving your entire world shifted on its axis?

The dank alleyway reeked of rot and piss as you slammed Feitan against the filthy brickwork, fingers snarling in the lapels of his once-pristine tuxedo. A thin trickle of blood oozed from the split in his brow, vivid crimson against his pallid features.

"This is all your fault, you arrogant little prick!" The words tore from your throat in a guttural snarl as you shook him viciously. "If you could stop eye-fucking me long enough to focus for two goddamn seconds-"

"My fault?" He cut you off with a wheezing laugh, still managing to look utterly derisive despite the position you had him pinned in. "If your whorish little act wasn't so shameless and distracting-"

You drew back a fist, fully prepared to break his smug nose, when a peel of distant sirens had you both freezing. After a momentary standoff, you released him with a disgusted shove, wiping a trembling hand across your sweat-slicked brow as you struggled to leash your spiraling temper.

"Forget it, we need to move. Our exit is compromised."

Feitan sneered at you as he straightened his jacket with a dismissive tug, refusing to acknowledge he was just as rattled. His gaze took on a faraway look for a split second before he gave a tight nod.

"Chrollo sent a new set of coordinates. There's a safe house two blocks west."

You fell into step beside him, moving at a clipped pace that matched the jackhammer pounding of your pulse. Every few steps, your shoulders would brush with the barest whisper of contact, reigniting a phantom echo of the way he'd felt pressed against you on the dance floor.

The memory had you grinding your teeth hard enough to make the hinges creak, riling the sickly ribbon of confusion currently squirming through your gut. What the hell had happened back there? One minute you were shredding each other with barbs as natural as breathing, the next...

You shook your head sharply, refusing to dwell on the hunger that had momentarily flickered in Feitan's gaze. Or the way your entire body had sung in response, every nerve alight like a livewire about to detonate. It was nothing - a fleeting second of insanity brought on by the adrenaline and heightened circumstance. An anomaly, meaningless in the grand scheme of your...whatever the hell this sick alliance was.

Shoving the errant thoughts aside, you pushed forward into the overgrown lot Feitan indicated, trampling a wavering path through the weeds towards a squat, nondescript building. Not a word was exchanged as he disarmed the security system and led you inside to the dingy, compact space that would be your shelter for the foreseeable future.

You grimaced as you took in the sparse furnishings and musty odor. "Fucking fantastic."

Feitan simply grunted, dropping his suit jacket over the back of a battered recliner as he began divesting himself of weapons and gear. Only when he reached the buttons on his shirt did he pause, shadows obscuring his expression as he cut you a sidelong glance.

"I'd offer to let you shower first but..."

But there was only one visible door that presumably led to a solitary bathroom. You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the first tendrils of an stress-migraine coiling behind your eyes.

"Just get on with it before I decide to gut you and bleed out in the tub like a fucking woman scorned."

A bark of laughter punched from Feitan at the morbid joke before he could smother it. You blinked at him, oddly thrown by the genuine amusement glinting in his obsidian stare for a fleeting second. Then the moment passed, and he simply shrugged out of the soiled dress shirt, turning to disappear through the doorway without further comment.

You were left standing in the middle of the ramshackle living area, keenly aware of the steady drip of blood tracking from your split knuckles to patter on the cracked vinyl floor. With measured inhales, you attempted to shunt the chaos of the evening into a small, containable box to be unpacked later. Feitan was right, getting cleaned up would be the priority for now. After that...

Well, you'd just have to sort through this tangled web you'd woven like adults. And if violence and bloodshed was the only way to sever the noose cinching around your sanity, so be it. At least that path you understood - that was stable, solid ground to walk upon with him.

This... whatever it was brewing between you like a virulent sickness, was far more lethal.

The pipes clanked and groaned as you twisted the tarnished shower knobs, filling the cramped bathroom with a humid, enveloping steam. Grimacing, you peeled off the tattered remnants of your evening gown, letting the ruined silk puddle at your feet.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the warped mirror above the chipped porcelain sink - hair lank and makeup ravaged, vivid bruises already darkening along your ribs from your rough tumble during the escape. More telling, however, were the faint indents marring the swell of your breast, pressed there by Feitan's fingertips in the ballroom like brands seared into your very being.

A violent shudder ripped through you at the visceral recollection, every nerve ending rekindling with phantom echoes of his scorching touch. Slamming your palm against the mirror, you shattered the refracted image into a thousand fractals, each one reflecting back the turmoil roiling in your expression.

With a ragged exhale, you shed the rest of your undergarments and stepped beneath the mercifully scalding spray, welcoming the harsh sting across your battered skin. Anything to dull the incessant buzzing beneath, the molten licks of pure confusion that had you splaying one palm over your lower abdomen in a futile gesture.

After several long, steadying minutes, you finally felt coherent thought filtering back, shunting the chaos into submission - at least for now. Grabbing a towel, you twisted it around your body and yanked open the bathroom door, striding back into the main room with a cloud of steam billowing in your wake.

Feitan stood in the cramped kitchenette, spine taut as a bowstring as he doctored the split over his brow with clumsy, one-handed stitches. At your abrupt entrance, his shoulders twitched and rolled almost imperceptibly, head swiveling to face you with narrowed eyes.

"About time," he groused, voice sandpaper rough. "I was starting to think you'd drowned yourself in there to avoid facing the cosmic fuckup you-"

Whatever insult he'd been ready to deploy withered and died as his obsidian gaze dropped lower, raking over the exposed expanse of damp skin visible beneath your precariously knotted towel with undisguised hunger. His throat bobbed convulsively as he swallowed hard, suddenly looking anywhere but at you.

"Dammit," he snarled after a strained pause, teeth snapping the crass endearment like a viper's strike. "A little warning about parading around like that would be appreciated."

Despite the multiple layers of ice coating his tone, you detected the barest wobble crack along its surface - an infinitesimal tremor betraying the struggle to maintain his sangfroid. A meandering lick of validation bloomed through you at having caught him so thoroughly off-guard, splitting your lips in a mocking moue.

"What, am I making Lord Feitan flustered?" You stalked forward challengingly, towel slipping lower with every predatory step to bare more glistening skin. "Seems your vaunted self-control has sprung a rather conspicuous leak, husband."

His nostrils flared minutely at the poisonous endearment, fingers tightening around the bloodied gauze until his knuckles shone bone-white. Yet, his stare remained steadfastly fixed above your collarbones, the muscle in his jaw twitching erratically.

"Keep pushing, wife ," he bit out in a strained rasp. "You're cruising for a brutality you're ill-equipped to face tonight."

The unveiled threat landed square in your solar plexus, simultaneously shunting your reckless desire to poke the caged beast and stoking a deeper, infinitely more terrifying burn low in your belly. You felt yourself sway forward of its own volition, every instinct honed on a whetstone of fear and adrenaline screaming at you to retreat, to reassert the fragile barriers before they were obliterated entirely.

Yet you held your ground, searching Feitan's expression for any flicker of the same wounded animality you felt ricocheting through your own veins, your towel slipping another infinitesimal fraction down your sternum in the process. His eyes followed the movement with searing intensity before snapping back up, something dark and unfurling igniting in those obsidian depths.

"Bring it, husband," you heard yourself hissing recklessly. "I'll shove those brutalities so far up your sadistic little ass, you'll be regurgitating blood and teeth for a month."

You could have sworn his pupils blew wide at that, flaring with undisguised relish before he was lunging for you, movements a blur of untamed violence. If you'd hoped to provoke him, to unleash whatever it was roiling between you into the light, you were rewarded a thousand fold.

His hands were iron manacles around your biceps, slamming you back against the grease-stained counter as his lithe body caged yours with arching menace. You crashed together like colliding celestial bodies - unstoppable force meeting immovable object in a maelstrom of jagged breaths and stifling heat.

"Should've kept your mouth shut, dear," he growled against the hammering pulse in your throat. Each consonant scorched like a brand, igniting detonations of raw sensation you were powerless to withstand. "Now you get to take exactly what's coming to you."

His hips rolled into yours with bruising force, crushing your lower bodies together as his teeth sank into the juncture of your neck and shoulder hard enough to reave a harsh gasp from you. Not quite a bite, but a vicious promise all the same - a precursor to the violence he was poised to inflict that would leave no question as to whom you belonged.

You were suddenly lightheaded, nerves blazing white-hot as your body responded viscerally to his provocation. Mortification, anger, arousal - every emotion flooded your senses in a dizzying, inextricable miasma until you couldn't be sure what you felt any longer. Only that you burned feverishly from within, every cell straining towards the brutal inevitability of Feitan's next calculated strike.

When it came, your world whited out entirely, the resounding concussion off the counter rattling you down to your very marrow. There was no pain, only a discordant ringing and an unbearable pressure centered below your diaphragm. A sustained, broken noise reverberated in the cramped space that you belatedly recognized as your own ruined voice.

Feitan remained locked against you with grim triumph, the pads of his fingers leaving livid crescents in your flesh as he drank in your total debasement and undoing. When he leaned in next, you were certain without a shadow of a doubt that anything left unraveled between you would be torn asunder in the next breath.

You glared at Feitan from your sprawled position on the floor, chest heaving as you swiped the back of your hand across your split lip. A thin rivulet of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth as well, stark against his pallid skin.

"You're going to pay for that, you sadistic little bastard," you growled, levering yourself upright with your elbows.

Feitan simply arched one brow mockingly, his tongue darting out to lave at the crimson seeping from his busted lip. The sight of it, so obscene yet undeniably magnetic, had molten anger roiling through your veins anew.

"I'd like to see you try, bitch," he taunted in that raspy timbre that somehow managed to sound both threatening and profoundly unsettling. "Unless you plan on crying for Chrollo to intervene again?"

You were across the room in a blur, your towel slipping loose as you tackled him with bruising force. Feitan met your violence with feral glee, hands snarling in your sodden hair as you grappled viciously. The two of you crashed and rolled, trading blow for stinging blow in a whirlwind of flailing limbs.

At some point, your towel had come undone entirely, the terrycloth puddle abandoned on the floor as your bare skin met Feitan's sweat-slicked torso. Yet neither of you registered the complete state of undress, too singularly focused on the vicious undulations of your battle.

Finally, you managed to pin him beneath you, knees caging his hips as you fought to trap his wiry arms. Feitan thrashed and strained, every sinewy muscle corded to breaking as he bowed against your weight in a futile attempt to dislodge you.

Then, all at once, something within the atmosphere shifted - a subtle charge bleeding the rage from the air in a dizzying spiral. You both stilled as one, harsh pants reverberating between your sweat-sheened forms as you registered your tangled states. Feitan's gaze was hooded, pupils blown wide as they raked over every inch of your exposed, vulnerable flesh with undisguised hunger.

Belatedly, you realized your fingers were fisted in the sweat-damp fabric of his tank top, straining the material to translucence and leaving very little to the imagination. Your lips parted on a ragged inhale as Feitan's hips canted up in a subconscious grind, the blatant ridge of his cock catching you square between your bodies.

Time seemed to slow to a viscous crawl then, the world narrowing to the minuscule space between your labored breaths. Feitan's lashes fluttered once, twice, before his eyes slitted back open - dark pools of naked wanting that had you arching into him before conscious thought could intervene.

His mouth was searing, branding yours with a ferocity that stole the air from your lungs. Yet you returned his onslaught with equal desperation, all nails and teeth as you clutched him tighter against your naked body. There was no preamble, no gentle exploration - only the wild, unrestrained explosion of every unspoken want and need as you finally surrendered to the maelstrom.

Your fingers found the hem of his tank top, tearing it upward impatiently. Feitan's muscles rippled beneath your fingertips as you ran them reverently across every scarred inch of his chest and abdomen. When you flicked a teasing thumb across one hardened nipple, he hissed into your mouth, bucking up hard.

"Fuck," he swore, breaking the kiss with a ragged gasp. His fingers were tangled in your hair, holding you steady as his other hand skimmed up your bare flank. "If I'd known what a devious little whore you were, I'd have fucked you over every surface in that ballroom ages ago."

You arched one brow mockingly. "Is that so? Or would you have been too busy eye-fucking me to notice?"

The words left your lips in a breathless, taunting rush, and suddenly you were on your back again, the wind knocked from your lungs as Feitan pinned you against the floor with an animalistic snarl. He looked wild, utterly disheveled as his hips canted hard between your thighs.

"Perhaps I would have fucked that smart mouth of yours right there in the middle of the dance floor, wife," he practically purred, eyes gleaming as he rocked harder. "Would have had everyone watching how thoroughly I owned you."

Heat bloomed through your lower body at the vivid imagery, even as a traitorous moan slipped past your lips. Feitan smirked, a smug, victorious expression that had you surging up to catch his bottom lip between your teeth. He groaned, heady and deep, as you bit down, blood mingling on your tongues.

Then, abruptly, he was wrenching free, leaving you sprawled against the cracked tile. Before you could recover, his palm was wrapping around your ankle, yanking you across the floor like a ragdoll. Your fingers clawed at the ground, scrambling for purchase as you were dragged inexorably towards the couch.

The rough material was cold and abrasive against your skin as he flipped you over, yanking your ass into the air. Then his hands were spreading your thighs wide, and he was sinking his teeth into the tender flesh at the crease of your hip. You whimpered, hips grinding back against him mindlessly as your nails tore into the worn fabric.

His fingers were rough, merciless as they probed at your entrance, slicking through the evidence of your arousal. A choked moan slipped free at the sensation, back bowing as your spine arched involuntarily.

"Oh, look at how wet and desperate my vicious little whore is," Feitan crooned, two fingers curling inside you as his thumb circled your clit. "This what you've been aching for, wife?"

He punctuated the taunt by leaning in and biting the swell of your ass, sending a violent shudder through your core. Your fingers tangled in the frayed throw, the fibers ripping under your grip.

"Go fuck yourself," you bit out, hips canting back against him.

A sharp crack rang out as Feitan brought his palm down on your ass, a livid welt flaring across your skin. The sudden pain had you hissing, a curse rising on the tip of your tongue before it died as a third finger was shoved roughly inside you.

"Careful what you wish for," Feitan murmured, a hint of danger lacing his tone as his fingers thrust into you at a brutal pace. "I'd be more than happy to oblige, since you're such a cock-hungry little whore."

His words sent an undefinable pang through your core, your muscles clenching around him in a visceral response. He chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers with a final, lewd curl. You heard the jangle of his belt, the rustle of clothing being discarded, and then he was dragging the thick head of his cock through your folds.

"Please," the word escaped in a hoarse, pleading breath, the last vestiges of your pride crumbling away.

Feitan paused, his entire body stilling. A long, tense moment passed, the only sound between you two the rasp of your combined, ragged breathing. Then, slowly, his palms slid over the curve of your hips, thumbs hooking along the crest of your ass as he spread you wider.

"As you wish, dear wife," he replied in a strained whisper.

His first thrust was a violent thing, driving straight to the hilt in one harsh, relentless motion. You keened, fingers tearing deeper into the couch as the pain-pleasure of the stretch burned through every nerve ending.

Then, without pause, Feitan was fucking you in earnest, hips snapping forward with savage, staccato motions. Every inch of you was alight, electrified by the feel of him, the sound of his low, guttural grunts as he ravaged you.

You felt the tension mounting within, coiling low in your belly and spreading through every extremity like liquid fire. When Feitan's thumb ghosted against the tight ring of your ass, a violent spasm rocked you, a choked sob tearing free.

"You like that?" He practically growled, the pad of his thumb teasing the sensitive rim with a wicked rhythm that matched his thrusts. "Such a filthy little thing, you'll take it wherever I decide to shove it, won't you?"

Before you could even respond, the digit was pushing inside, sinking into your ass and stretching the tight muscle in a way that had tears spilling down your cheeks. Everything was too much, too overwhelming, the twin intrusions setting off a detonation of sensations that had you seeing stars.

You came hard, an uncontrolled explosive gush of liquid spraying all over the couch. Feitan moaned, an obscene, animalistic sound that had another aftershock wracking your entire body.

"Fuck, yes," he snarled, fingers digging bruises into your hips as he fucked you through the orgasm. "Soak me, whore. Mark me with every fucking inch of this tight little cunt."

His thumb twisted in tandem with his thrusts, stretching the ring of muscle to an almost-painful extent. It was too much, too fast, but every sensation felt dialed up to an eleven, leaving you helpless to do anything but ride the wave of his brutal pleasure.

When you came again, the scream ripped from your throat was a broken, fractured thing, a desperate, primal noise that Feitan seemed to revel in. You sagged against the couch, trembling uncontrollably as another rush of liquid coated his cock and thighs.

"God, that's it," Feitan hissed, sounding utterly undone. "Fuck, look at you, soaking and gushing all over me."

His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back sharply as his hips lost their rhythm. Then, without warning, his thumb was withdrawing, his grip shifting from your hair to your chin, wrenching your neck around.

Your eyes widened at the sight, the utter wreckage of him reflected back - flushed and wild-eyed, with his lips glistening and swollen from your earlier kisses. He was the very definition of unhinged, an untamed beast unleashed at last, and you'd never been more turned on in your life.

He kissed you again then, tongue plundering your mouth with a feral intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. You felt him throb and twitch, his moans becoming more frenzied, more broken. Then, with a final, brutal thrust, he was spilling inside you, the molten heat of his cum a brand marking you deep within.

You were barely able to catch your breath before Feitan was pulling out, rolling you onto your back and yanking your thighs over his shoulders. Your vision blurred for a moment, mind utterly uncomprehending, before the realization dawned - Feitan was burying his face between your thighs, his tongue plunging into the depths of your core to lap at the mess he'd left behind.

Sensation overload had you screaming, back bowing off the couch as another violent, full-body tremor ripped through you. Yet he refused to relent, his tongue relentless, his fingers joining the onslaught as they plunged into your abused hole to stroke at your oversensitive walls.

A third gush of liquid coated his fingers, and he was moaning, utterly shameless, against your pussy as he drank from you ravenously. The sound of him, debauched and unhinged, was too much, your nerves already rubbed raw.

You tried to push him away, the sensations too intense, too overwhelming. Yet Feitan simply growled, a muffled warning, his teeth closing on the hood of your clit. A sob wracked you, the overstimulation bordering on exquisite pain.

Then, he was sucking, tongue swirling and teasing and driving you mad. It was all too much, yet you couldn't pull away, couldn't escape the relentless tide he'd unleashed. When he slid a finger into your ass, the coil snapped, a white-hot, blinding rush that had you convulsing and screaming in his hold.

He worked you through the orgasm, his tongue gentling until the aftershocks had faded and you were left utterly wrecked, limbs quivering and mind completely obliterated.

When Feitan finally emerged, licking his lips like a self-satisfied cat, his expression was one of utter, smug satisfaction. You were barely able to form a coherent thought, much less an insult, so instead you settled for glaring at him weakly, trying to channel every ounce of disdain and irritation into your glare.

Feitan simply shrugged, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't look at me like that, dear wife. You started this."

You attempted a scathing retort, but only a ragged, garbled sound escaped as you realized the extent of your destruction. The couch was absolutely drenched, rivulets of liquid and cum leaking over the cushions in a vulgar display.

Feitan followed your line of sight, the smirk twisting into a lewd grin. "And to think, we've only just begun."

Before you could even begin to comprehend the implication, he was pulling you to your feet, scooping you over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. The next thing you knew, you were being dropped on the bed, bouncing against the sheets as he stalked after you.

"Now, wife, why don't we continue our honeymoon a bit longer?"

The dim of the Phantom Troupe's hideout greeted you and Feitan like a physical force as you stepped through the threshold. Raucous laughter and jeering whistles erupted the moment you appeared, drawing mortified flushes to both your cheeks.

"Well, well, if it isn't the newlyweds!" Nobunaga's booming voice cut through the catcalls as he swaggered over, a salacious grin splitting his weathered features. "Gotta say, I didn't peg you two for the kinky honeymoon suite types."

"I must admit, your performance was rather...enlightening," Chrollo interjected, the barest hint of a smirk playing across his lips as he leveled you with a weighted look.

You felt your face heat even further at the implication. Feitan shot you a murderous glare, clearly placing the blame squarely on your shoulders for this humiliation.

"You've got to be kidding me," he snarled through gritted teeth as understanding dawned.

"We had cameras installed to monitor your location," Machi confirmed with a longsuffering sigh. "For safety purposes. Though I don't think any of us expected...that level of disclosure."

Uvogin guffawed loudly, slapping his knee. "You mean you weren't hoping for some free live entertainment, Machi?"

The teasing and raucous laughter continued to swell around you as the rest of the Spiders utterly failed to contain their amusement at yours and Feitan's expense. Even the typically unflappable Pakunoda had a glint of mirth dancing in her eyes.

"I can assure you, the footage was quite...comprehensive," Chrollo offered blandly, making no effort to hide his satisfaction at your escalating mortification. "There were no details left to the imagination."

You sputtered incoherently, torn between the urge to burst into flames on the spot and throttling every last one of these voyeuristic savages with your bare hands. Feitan, meanwhile, looked two seconds from detonating entirely.

"You lecherous band of voyeurs!" he exploded, visibly shaking with rage as he whirled to face you. "And you! How did you not notice the goddamn cameras?!"

Seizing the opportunity to redirect even a fraction of the blame, you met his fury head-on.

"How did I not notice?! If you hadn't been too busy eye-fucking me at every turn like a horny mutt, maybe we both would have paid more attention to our surroundings!"

The argument quickly devolved into your typical vicious back-and-forth, insults and profanities flying as the Troupe howled with laughter around you. Eventually, you both stormed off in a cloud of barely restrained violence, hurling threats over your shoulders at the jeering pack of depraved hyenas.

As the sounds of your bickering faded down the corridor, Chrollo's smooth baritone carried after you with a hint of dark amusement.

"Do try and be more discreet next time, you two...unless you're intentionally putting on a show for us."

#hunter x hunter x reader smut #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter smut #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader smut #hxh smut #hxh x reader #feitan #feitan smut #feitan x reader #feitan x reader smut

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iveriee · 8 months

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★;CATEGORY: A yandere x Reader

★;PAIRING: Yan!Tom Riddle x Gn!Reader.

★;SUMMARY: In which, he gets utterly envious of your s/o.

★;PS: This contains severe mentions of abusive and obsessive behaviours, Henceforth if you are uncomfortable with any of such topics, Please do not read this. I do not encourage toxic behaviour and this is only a work of fiction. I'm aware that I should be writing Part 3 of the Yule Ball fic, However, I've decided not to continue it. I deeply apologize, i just did not have any ideas on how to continue it. However, if you have any sort of suggestions, please let me know. I'll write anything as long as it's relevant and appropriate. I understand the anxiety of requesting a scenario at times, I quite literally am terrified of doing so myself.

★;EXTRA QUESTION: What's your favorite Taylor Swift song and why?

To say your life was mundane would be an understatement—Boredom filled your senses, even if it was Hogwarts you were attending. But perhaps, the truthful reason was that you did not share any classes with s/o/n. Your state was truly pitiable, Words engraved on pages were mere symbols to you—Questions, Paragraphs,Instructions, Incantations, etc all demolished right out of your mind like a prompt broom. The ending of classes were one of the only things that brought you joy. On a fretful Tuesday, you hurried out of the dungeon, sprinting profusely, eventually concluding by frisking right on s/o/n, legs enclosed on their waist.

"[Name]?" They questioned, astonished by your actions.

"I really missed you..." You murmured in response. "I wish we had classes together. I don't particularly enjoy studying anymore.."

Their expression configured into a frown. "[Name], you know you have to study. I don't want you to fail." Their hands found the route to your hair, fondling it dotingly(which, of course, made you grin) only to place you back on the ground.. "Please. I only want what's best for you." They added delicately.

However, you were not even aware of the most crucial thing. In the midst of your affections with s/o/n, You had been utterly and completely examined by none other than Tom Riddle. His envy and infatuation had been rooted extensively, like a coping plant—growing and growing until it surpasses the garden, destroying it in the process. He had harboured a bitter hatred towards s/o/n, so much so it turned into desires of murder. Why couldn't you comprehend how much he was better than them? He was the ideal student...with precisely placed dark curls, a charismatic (albeit untrue) smile, excellent grades, beloved by everyone..And so in many's eyes, even flawless...could it perhaps be that you were aware of his true nature? No. It simply was not decipherable. You could not have been aware. However, he should focus on you at this moment...he told himself..(or perhaps reassured?)... He could have perhaps done anything for you, anything to please you,whether it was unjust or not, yet this was what he received in turn? Perhaps he should have tortured you until you submitted. But then again, he could not watch you sobbing.

So, henceforth, it all led to you weeping nevertheless. The exception being that it was over s/o/n's corpse, not wounded, not varnished but frigid. Cold. Their eyes were vacant, no longer were they gazing at you gently. And they never would.Never again would you sprint to them after class and embrace them.... s/o/n was dead. And tears crowded your eyes, plummeting down your cheeks. How could somebody be so vicious? How could somebody use the killing curse on them without a second thought? Why was the world so brutal? Perhaps..you should have studied. After all, they did not wish for you to fail in your O.W.LS...

And so Riddle concealed his smirk and approached you, his ego calloused when you did not turn your gaze at him. His hand idled on your shoulders, in an almost comforting manner. "I sincerely apologise for your loss, [Last name]." He murmured, almost seductively if it weren't for your grief. Mine he wondered to himself. They are rightfully mine.

#harry potter #hp fandom #tom marvolo riddle #lord voldemort #yandere tom riddle #tom riddle #male yandere #yandere #jealousy #tom riddle x reader #yandere x reader #yandere tom riddle x reader

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squirrelsqwirow · 5 months

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HC: lovesick!muzan x fem!demonreader

a/n: I love the idea of a powerful, intimidating man being head-over-heels for his wife cw: mentions of death, cannon setting, slight yandere, suggestive themes, odd use of blood cause demons, ooc a bit????

lovesick!muzan who rules as the demon king, feared by both demons and humans alike, a murderer of thousands, a egocentric psychopath who believes himself to be a god walking earth, a heartless, cold man who cares not for others and only for his self-gain

lovesick!muzan who would only kneel for his beautiful wife - the demon queen

lovesick!muzan who ensures that your existence is kept a lethal rumour - lower demons tremble when they utter the title 'demon queen' for they fear muzan will hear them - and he does

lovesick!muzan who's eyes sharpen when one of his pathetic creations dares speak of you, and is by their side within a blink, hand dug deep into their stomach, fingers wrapped around the spine and with one harsh pull, they are left motionless as the sun peaks over the buildings

lovesick!muzan who confirms your existence with his upper moons by having you join his side at his last meeting over one-hundred years ago - they hadn't seen you since

within the stomach of the infinity castle, atop a risen platform you lay comfortably with your head on your husbands lap. muzan looked down with disgust at his supposed upper moons - the most powerful products of his unwavering hatred, yet in that moment all he felt with disappointment. his hand was gentle as it ran across your jewelled hair, careful to not catch on the golden accessories. "they're pathetic," you had said. muzan hummed as you continued: "loyal but incompetent." "I give them power and a simple request in return," he stroked your cheek and your eyes closed. "Yet they have nothing to show for it." muzan's voice sharpened and he narrowed his eyes as all but one upper moon looked displeased. "imperfection isn't acceptable."

lovesick!muzan who allows you and only you to keep him company in his lab - he prefers to work in silence, but if you take an interest in his love for chemistry he will answer every question with a smile so small only you can see it

lovesick!muzan who believes his wife to be the most intelligent individual he's ever met - calm, cunning, vicious, elegant with a strong desire for destruction and power - he'd never think so highly of anyone else

lovesick!muzan who stares at his wife constantly - any lesser being would assume him to be glaring, but you've known him long enough to see the love in his stare - he doesn't like being caught staring, and most times isn't, but he lets his guard down around you

lovesick!muzan who will give you his blood without hesitation, for you are the demon queen and therefore deserving of all this power

muzan swiftly sliced the pad of his index finger with the sharp nail of his thumb. he delicately took your face in his hands and your mouth fell open, tongue resting against your lower, red lip. he smiled and slowly placed his index on the base of your tongue and dragged it to the tip - silk-like red trailing his finger. it was like iron in your mouth, a metallic tang as you swallowed. muzan kissed you next, soft and chaste with his lips flush against your own. as he pulled away, he could feel the thickness of your red lipstick against his lips, and his cunning suspicion was confirmed as you smiled largely.

lovesick!muzan who creates a unique deep red lipstick for only you, specially crafted in his lab and injected with his blood - it was vivid against your complexation, often attracting the attention of many human women who would approach you asking for the store you purchased it from

lovesick!muzan who swells with pride when you tell them it's custom made by your intelligent husband

lovesick!muzan who doesn't sleep very often - nor do you, but when you lie down for a nap every decade or two, he will only protest once before joining you under the covers

lovesick!muzan who sleeps on his back with your arm slung over his chest and your face buried in the crook of his neck - he's not one to fall asleep fast, but he stays and rubs small circles into your shoulder as you sleep peacefully

lovesick!muzan who will admire you as you sleep, tracing your facial features and planting small pecks to your forehead - one of the very few times he'll smile kindly

lovesick!muzan who ventures into the human world with you on his arm, visiting the wealthiest parts of Japan and purchasing you anything you stare too long at - a foreign gold necklace, a luxurious kimono - anything, ask him for anything and it's yours

lovesick!muzan who knows you long to travel the world, but it is too much of a risk with sunlight still damning him to the shadows - but he gives you his word, that once he has conquered the sun and given you the same ability will he give you the world

lovesick!muzan who would rip cities apart and massacre villages if it brought a smile to that lovely face - he would approach you when it's done, drenched in blood yet not a hair out of place

he approached with arrogance in his step, pressed black suit velvet under the moons light. he stop before you and kneeled. his deep voice drawled: "have I pleased you, my love?" his eyes - a sharp red like the splatters of blood against his pale face - looked up at you expectantly. muzan knew you were, but oh how he loved to hear it. you smiled: "I'm beyond pleased, such a wonderful sight." as he rose you cupped his cheek and caressed the skin beneath his eye. "you always know how to make me happy."

lovesick!muzan who would tear any man or woman apart for staring at you with anything akin to lust or want - you are no longer phased by this habit of his

lovesick!muzan who drowns you in praise and whispers of love, paired with chaste kisses to your hands and cheeks

lovesick!muzan who ensures that his beloved wife lives a life of luxury and class, never needing to lift a finger, never needing to raise her voice, never needing to demand anything twice because it is done instantly

lovesick!muzan who bathes you in the finest blood - he'll sit on the edge of the large tub and read to you one of his many favourite poems or stories

you sat against the tub and leaned your head against the rest, a smile on your face. your knees poked from the red liquid, droplets running down the smooth skin of your thighs. his words were soft and deep as he recited a poem only a mind like his could understand. they lulled you to a peaceful mood, not quite asleep, but in a conscious state where all you could hear were your husbands words, and all you could feel was his hand linked with yours.

lovesick!muzan who initially refused to involve you in his work, but upon your constant pestering he finally admitted to his goal - the search for the blue spider lilly

lovesick!muzan who appreciated your efforts to finding this flower for him - you created a garden in a place between space and time, a dimension only the powerful could enter, and planted every seed you got your hands on in hopes that one day the blue flower would sprout from the ground

lovesick!muzan who adores your attempts to help him and loves visiting your garden when he is stressed - although he isn't confident this is the best way to find this flower, he appreciates the effort and comes to find peace within the garden

lovesick!muzan who, during upper moon meetings, will compare his demons to you

"in the past month my wife has made far more progress in obtaining the blue spider lilly than any of you have in the last century," muzan sneered and looked down upon his most powerful creations. such a waste of blood they turned out to be - perhaps he should consider replacements. "please, my lord! please forgive us!" hantengu cried on his hands and knees. "I do not want excuses," muzan said with a narrowed glare. he overlooked all his upper moons and felt disgust in the pit of his stomach at how far they had fallen. centuries they had lived, thousands they has slaughtered and consumed without mercy, hundreds they tortured for entertainment, yet they fall short when finding a flower. how dishonorable, how frustrating, how insulting to his and his wife's name. "I want results."

lovesick!muzan who met you when he was human, the beautiful, kind and intelligent daughter of his doctor, and never cared for you in the beginning, but as you appeared more and more, he grew to enjoy your company

lovesick!muzan who fell in love and so desperately wanted to give you the life you deserved, but from the confines on his bed it seemed impossible

lovesick!muzan who grew bitter and angry at the thought that one day soon he would die and you would take another man - he swore to you that if he lived he would give you everything you deserved

lovesick!muzan who becomes a demon thanks to your fathers innovation, and quickly turns you too, making work of his promise in giving you everything you deserve - power, wealth, loyal servants, a kingdom and a title

lovesick!muzan who never would have fallen in love with you had you not been there since the very beginning, but is so thankful you were because he cannot bare to think how empty and lonely his life would be without you

#muzan kibutsuji #demon slayer muzan #muzan x reader #demon slayer #kibutsuji muzan #kny

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serendipityandbenevolence · 1 year

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Couldn't find any fatui x reader SAGAU so I wrote what I wanted to read. It's a tough gig, but someone has to do it. Also yes, I know my sentences are too long

Contains - Mentions of blood (yay), me pretending like scara is still part of the fatui and la signora isn't dead, a good part of this is just you monologuing about how you're going to die (spoilers: you don't) no gold blood (sorry guys) also gn reader

With every labored breath that fell from your lips, you became more certain that this was where you would die. Not in a comfortable bed, surrounded by family to hold you gently as you slipped on, but alone and scared in a foreign land. You traced patterns on the snow that you lay upon, the only movement you could force yourself to do since you collapsed into that very snow hours prior. Part of you said it was the cold that had brought you to your knees, the other, more rational, part said that is was the gaping wound in your side and the heavy trail of red that you had sloppily painted the pristine landscape with.

You could not recall who dealt that blow to you. There were too many bows, swords, spears, that had rained down upon you to tell whose had cut you. And you hadn't looked. You didn't want to know, of those who you had adored through a screen, had performed the killing blow. It was a miracle that you had escaped. Perhaps it was a blessing from the god whose face you had unwittingly stolen, to give you the chance to fade away gently before they could inflict more pain to you.

But as soon as the thought of a peaceful end crossed your mind, you heard it. At first, you could pretend it was merely the howling wind that swirled above, but as the noises got louder, your brain was forced to recognize them as they were: voices. A single tear slid down your cheek as you lay motionless, the last tear you would shed for yourself.

"-they get this far? With the amount of blood they've lost, surely they must be de-"

"Shh! Don't even speak the words! The death of a god would not go unpunished and I do not delight in the thought of what punishment would be in store for us, so please, refrain from such-"

"Over there!"

The hands that grabbed you almost seemed to burn, their gentle warmth scorching your frost-ridden skin. Panicked voices swirled around you, words disappearing from your mind as soon as they are spoken. The only thing you truly hear, as the darkness surrounds you, was the frantic yell for a healer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were warm. A rather bland, yet incomprehensible feeling considering the few days you had just had. However, as you forced your eyes open, the reason for your warmth became clear. Gone was the infinite snowy landscape, replaced with a truly massive bedroom and a crackling fire that provided your only light aside from the slightly ajar double doors and the sliver of light they let through. And the bed that you lay upon, which seemed far too spacious for even two people rest in, was piled high with furs and blankets. You wondered whether the person who had made this bed for you had simply taken every blanket they could find and thrown them upon you in the hopes that it would keep you warm.

"Liyue had extended their sincere apology for the treatment of the Divine One, but we are yet to hear anything from Inazuma."

The voice that snaked its way into your room was firm and professional, but with a sharp venom lacing every word, especially the nations that they named. The next voice in comparison made no effort to conceal its vicious hatred, anger seeping out of every letter.

"Not even a letter. How disgraceful. I expected nothing less from a nation that cannot even know its creator when they see them, but somehow, they still disappoint me."

Quite a few murmurs of agreement surrounded that statement, revealing truly how many people stood outside your room, before the first voice responded.

"You would think, Capitano, that such devout worshippers would have a good set of working eyes, however-"

You did not hear beyond that. That name, it told you everything about where you had found yourself and the nature of those voices whispering in the hallway.

The Harbingers.

You almost had to laugh, that your sworn enemies within the narrative were the ones to be providing you shelter after your 'allies' had turned against you. But instead of a laugh, a name fell from your lips, louder then intended, causing the voices outside to hush.

The name of the person you wished to see and, if you were being honest with yourself, your favorite Harbinger.

Now the only question is... who was it?

Pierro

Dottore

Columbina

Scaramouche

Sandrone

Signora

Pantalone

Tartaglia

Capitano

Arlecchino

Anyway, I'll write their lil pathways when i have the energy but hey, if you're reading this, if you want to comment which one you want first, i might listen

#genshin sagau #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #genshin impact #fatui harbingers #fatui x reader

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

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The Apple Of His Eye (Aemond x Reader)

Comments are severely appreciated please let me know what you think it keeps me motivated

(Y/n) was always known as the realms fairy, to be around her was to feel the undeniable warmth of her character, her gentle heart and sensitive spirit was the reason so many raves about her, it was a rare thing for a princess to hold such zest for life, how her eyes sparkled when she ran around the gardens looking for flowers and climbing trees, her melodic laughter reached everyone’s ears like the sound of a river flow, her mother Rhaenyra had worked hard to shield her daughter from any harm, she would rather put her head on a spike than allow anyone to taint her daughter.

“Princess Rhaenyra of house Targaryen and her prince consort Daemon of house Targaryen with her children, Jacaerys Velaryon, (y/n) Velaryon and Lucerys Velaryon”

(Y/n) clung on her brothers arm as they entered the room, everyone was staring and they were not very good with hiding their whispers, she had begged her mother let her stay back on Dragonstone, as much as she loved to wear fancy gowns Aegons nameday was an occasion she had hoped she could skip over.

Jacaerys placed his hand over hers as she gripped tighter than ever to his bicep, (y/n) gave a pleading look to her brother to which he responded with a reassuring smile, Jacaerys had always been (y/n)s safe haven, a person she could confide in and vice versa, Jacaerys adored his sister, she was everything the world was missing, gracious, generous, wise beyond her years, there was nothing he would not do in order to ensure her well being.

As they sat down to their respective seats (y/n) was seated next to her cousin Aemond, it wasn’t by choice and she could have easily avoid it still she thought it would be better if she sat next to the prince than her brother Jace.

“Prince Aemond, it has been too long since we saw each other last”

“Indeed princess”

Aemond agreed, how voice was monotone and quite formal. (Y/n) nodded to herself as she rubbed the palms of her hands on her gown to get rid of the sweat that was occurring from anxiety, she had not begrudged the prince, on the contrary she could not help but identify a sort of shame within her, she had been rudely awakened by yelling that night only to ran to the source of sound to find Aemond being stitched up and her younger brother with a bloody nose.

The words the prince had uttered were harsh, not harsh enough to take his eye and be scarred for the rest of his life. Her heart drummed loudly that (y/n) was certain it would burst through her rib cage, she hoped to mend the relationship within the prince and her brothers, maybe after all these years the fire of hatred could shimmer down.

“Do you enjoy dancing prince Aemond?”

“I know the steps although I prefer to be a spectator to such events”

“It’s your brothers nameday I am sure you could make an exception”

“I could”

Aemonds fury wasn’t towards (y/n), he had held a grudge over her brothers however he understood that it would not be fair to be vicious against the princess, the only reason he was cold was that if he even gave one smile to her Aegon would take it as an invitation to tease his little brother and her brothers would most likely take her away.

Aemond had fond memories of (y/n), he could recall the pig incident when she was the only one that scolded the others for the distasteful joke

“Stop tormenting him, how would you like it if he did it to you Jace?”

Her squeaky youthful voice trembled, she never took well with such jokes that were only funny on behalf of making fun of others, he could still bring the memory of her running behind him before he got up on Vhagar to depart, the princess apologised for her brothers behalf, she had even hugged him goodbye before she ran back to her mother.

“Princess (y/n), my name is Aden Baratheon, would the princess be so kind to share a dance with me?”

“Of course my lord”

The man was young, taller than the princess and dressed in a fine suit, Aemond scowled as the princess got up from her chair to walk towards the young man, when she placed her hand in his and gave him a wide smile Aemond instinctively gripped his goblet, he should have agreed to dance with her, his second thoughts over people that did not even matter to him held him back, Aemond was unfortunately a man that cared too much about his image.

“I must say you look ravishing princess”

“Well you honour me my lord, your house is based in storms end am I correct?”

“Precisely, have you ever visited our land?”

“No unfortunately, I do not take kindly to the cold”

“A princess like you would be offered the finest of furs, I would make sure of such”

(Y/n)s cheeks started to heat up, her gaze wavered for a moment as she focused on the ground to regain her composure, the lord was handsome, he held the usual Baratheon features of dark hair and blue eyes, they looked relatively similar expect (y/n)s hair was lighter leaning towards the honey coloured side, her mother loved to brush her hair and called (y/n) “my golden princess”.

As the dance continued Aemond wanted to cut the baratheons head clean off his shoulders, he could even picture his Valyrian sword swiping so easily through his flesh, an image that brought a smirk on his lips as he watched over (y/n) like a hawk.

“If I did not know any better I would say you have the hots for the strong princess”

“I must admit dear brother I am more surprised you can still see”

“Oh trust me I am severely drunk which speaks volumes for how painfully obvious it is that your little pecker is finally working”

“Disgusting as always I see”

“I am just saying what’s right in front of us brother no need to get hostile with me, go on then, dance with her”

“For her mother to see?”

“Rhaenyra won’t do anything, it’s a feast, if you keep thinking about our half sister the Baratheon will get to have a bite out of your little peach before you even show your teeth”

Even in his drunken state Aegon spoke some type of sense, Aemonds visual perception shifted from the woozy prince to the twirling princess, she appeared blissful on the dance floor, Aemond felt guilt spreading over his chest for denying her something that put her at ease, Aemond had observed how (y/n) put almost her entire weight on her brothers arm, even when she sat down he took notice of her wiping sweat in her dress, it reminded him of his sister Heleana.

“Pardon me, may I dance with the princess?”

“Of course my prince, we will speak later”

The Baratheon was so bold to wink to (y/n) in front of Aemond, if he had it his way Aemond would have cut his eye out, let him get a taste of what it is like, still for the sake of the feast and (y/n) he withheld from cruelty.

(Y/n) was puzzled over the harshness of the prince towards the Baratheon lord, when his jaw clenched (y/n)s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, (y/n) swayed on her feet as Aemond did not take the lead for the dance.

“My apologies princess, I should have escorted you when you hinted for a dance”

“It is alright, lord Aden was a good companion”

“Was he? Interesting”

Aemond muttered, what was he supposed to say? You shouldn’t dance with that bastard? He had no right to express himself in such a way nor feel anything about (y/n), yet he did. As the dance went on her eyes captured his soul, the grin that rested in her painted lips made him wonder how his fingers would sense if he graced them.

“I must admit I never pictured us being here, like this”

“Why is that?”

“You have been scarred for life because of my brother, it would displease me but I would understand why you would prefer to remain cordial with me”

“Displease you?”

“we were never at odds, quite the opposite you had been a tremendous help with my Valyrian lessons”

“You remember”

“Hen rhinka ñuha dārilaros” (of course my prince)

Aemond was so indulged with the conversation he had not realised they had talked through the entire dance, it was only when she broke eye contact and slightly bowed that Aemond looked around to see everyone change partners or walk away from the circle.

It was almost like a reflex that Aemond wrapped his hand around her wrist to prevent (y/n) from returning to her seat, she raised an eyebrow at the gesture while Aemond struggled to find an excuse to keep being in her presence.

“Would you like to take some air with me?”

“I would love-“

“Sister, a dance”

Jacaerys never left (y/n) out of his sight, his blood boiled at the scene of Aemond dancing with his sister, his mind racing with schemes that the prince had probably plotted to lure his sister in and hurt her, he would be damned if he let her go right in the wolfs mouth.

“I was actually going with prince Aemond outside”

“I am sure prince Aemond does not mind taking that walk alone, isn’t that right uncle?”

“Indeed my… dear nephew, enjoy your time together”

What he did not say was “while you can”. Aemond smiled at the princess and turned his back to retrieve from them his next target was none other than his mother, Alicent and Aemond always shared a close bond especially after the accident Alicent made it her mission to be the safe space Aemond could be honest to her.

“Mother, a word please”

Alicent did not verbally respond, she simply raise herself up from her chair to follow her son out of the room, (y/n) was too busy dancing however Jacaerys watched the mother and son depart, something in him told him it wasn’t just a coincidence that Aemond went to the queen, he shook himself to get rid of the presence of the greens from his mind and prioritise having a fun moment with his sister, it was a celebration after all.

“Princess, the queen is asking for your presence in her chamber”

(Y/n) had just gotten dressed when news of the queen summoning her, it was way too early for something like this which only meant it was important.

“Did her grace ask for my mother as well?”

“Yes princess”

“Alright then, let us get this over with”

(Y/n) had been frightened from the queen, Alicent had never done anything to the young princess, actually Alicent would always hug (y/n) and her daughter Heleana when they used to play together, (y/n) was the only person that could get Heleana out of her shell, the two princesses had been close for years until (y/n) and her family left for Dragonstone.

The walk to the queens chamber was rather short, howbeit (y/n) had started to sense cold sweat form on her armpits, the sensation was similar to dipping your legs in the cold ocean and the waves smacked you intensely.

“Your grace, prince Aemond”

(Y/n) curtsy respectfully as she entered, her mother was already seated directly at the head of the mother and son, it appeared like they had already discussed something that left Rhaenyra with a sour look, (y/n) sat close to her mother moreover Rhaenyra locked her one hand with her daughter, her hand was cold enough for (y/n) to be aware of how this might go.

“Has something happened?”

“No dear, we just have a proposition for you”

“For me?”

“I brought you here to discuss a match”

“You do not have to agree if you do not want to my sun”

Rhaenyra interrupted as she squeezed her daughters hand for encouragement. Rhaenyra internally prayed that her daughter did not agree to this, alas if the princess wanted to marry Rhaenyra would not go against it, she would not repeat the same mistake her father had done to her.

“A wedding match? With whom?”

“Me”

Aemond finally spoke up, (y/n) was stunted still something inside her fluttered, when the prince gave her a faint smile she could not help but reciprocate it, honestly (y/n) had never considered Aemond as a possible match until now, alas she was presented with such an opportunity, this could be the chance to mend all odds within the family.

“I- I am sorry it is a bit of a shock”

“You do not have to agree immediately my sweet”

“No I mean, yes I would be honoured”

“Are you sure? You do not have to rush”

“I am not rushing mother, this is a great match and would help us put any differences aside, Ivestragī īlva letagon īlva enoger” (let us bind our blood)

“ānogar, you always struggled with that world”

“ānogar, thank you Aemond”

Aemond only nodded as a sign of approval to (y/n), Rhaenyra and Alicent watched the interaction quietly. When Aemond asked his mother to betroth him to the princess she thought her child had gone mad, from what she knew they hadn’t spoken in years, even when they were children Aemond was too shy to speak to the princess, they played together sometimes but they had no type of bond that could cause Aemond to seek for a wedding.

Alas, Alicent trusted her son and called for the mother and daughter first thing in the morrow, once she saw the small talk between them it dawned on both mothers that this was no long year of a physical bond, it was a spiritual connection of familiarity, (y/n) was drawn to Aemond due to his noble ways and her soul searched past the facade Aemond had worked so hard to build.

Aemond was in much need of a person that he could lean on, her serene aura worked almost like a soothing balm against the wound that tormented him for ages, her voice resembled the sound of a wave that washed away any concerns or fears, (y/n) was the piece Aemond was missing, she was to be the apple of his eye.

Requests are open!

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daddyhausen · 8 months

Text

• you and me, forevermore •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlists } | { aew masterlist } | { chuck taylor masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ commission info } | { like my work? buy me a coffee <3 }

{ summary } — dustin has feelings of self doubt after you were forced to watch him get attacked during that parking lot brawl.

{ warnings } — injury, blood, forced to watch, hurt/comfort, soft sex, praise, fingering, shower sex, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, male + female orgasms, multiple orgasms, squirting vaginal creampie, internal cumshot

{ word count } — 4.8k

{ pairing } — fem!reader x chuck taylor

{ genre } — hurt/comfort, smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @cosmoholic13 @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @elsteenerico @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie

{ beta readers } — @allelitesmut + @legit9thlunaticwarrior

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

your blood ran cold at the sight. the carnage that unfolded behind only a single wall from you. you stared in horror at the monitor, throat running dry upon seeing your brother drenched in his own blood, trent’s eyes glazed over, deep browns seeming so lifeless as his head was slammed into the hood of a car by a vicious jon moxley. you winced, a pseudo-feeling as if your own head had collided with the exterior, watching the blood trickle down your brother's skull.

“oh god, i can’t look…” you muttered to yourself shying away into the shoulder of an equally worried orange cassidy, whose eyes, although covered by his sunglasses, displayed the same expression of shock and horror, his eyebrows knitted together, lips forming into a disgusted scowl. he kept a hand firmly around your shoulder, a comforting, protective hold, squeezing tightly with reassurance.

“jesus…” orange muttered under his breath, the sound mixed with a gasp of some sort. despite the horrors that played out on the monitor, and the desire to keep your eyes averted from the screen, not wanting to face whatever it showed. despite that you looked anyway upon feeling orange’s arm tense up around you.

you peered up, eyes widening and instantly welling over with tears, a gasp barely squeaked from your throat. there dustin laid, his head encapsulated in a pool of his own blood, the crimson mask washed over his peachy-tan skin, eyes half rolled back in his skull, looking half dead himself. an enraged wheeler yuta hovered over him, screwdriver in hand, a gleeful moxley watched on as his protege drove the weapon deeper into dustin’s forehead.

dustin had spared his former student from a beating, he still held love for the boy he once trained. the same could not be said for wheeler, who did not hesitate, fueled by anger and hatred, his former mentor’s blood now dripping through the cracks in his fingers.

“i…i need to go out there-“

“are you insane, what if you get hurt?!” a normally mellow orange cassidy spoke up in a fit of worry, the arm that was once wrapped around your shoulder now tightly clenched around your wrist, holding you back from aiding your brother and your fiancé.

“i could care less about myself right now!”

you ripped your arm from orange’s grasp in a state of panic, desperate in aiding the two men you cared most about in this world. the act left orange perplexed for a moment, watching on as you tried to decipher the halls and corridors that led to the entrance of the parking lot. he admired your courage no matter how stupid the situation seemed, he surely knew that dustin and trent would have his head if anything were to happen to you.

you were on autopilot, vision blurry through a cascading waterfall of tears, mind hazy with possibilities of what horrors could have happened to your brother and beloved. the bellows of the crowd drew closer, a foggy light emitting from the parking lot entrance followed by the thunderous sound of metal clashing against concrete. with a panicked orange cassidy hot on your tail, you turned the corner, greeted by the sight you had witnessed mere moments ago on the monitor. your brother the closest to you, claudio looming over like a dark cloud while trent writhed in his own blood.

you froze, feet felt as if they’d been glued to the floor the only thing that you could do was stare as you brother got beaten to a bloody pulp, how his blood seeped from his skull into the concrete below. sure, you’ve seen your brother beaten and bloody, but never to this extent, not in the way claudio was bludgeoning him.

your eyes burned, breath paralyzed in your chest. a burst of adrenaline hitting you, charging at claudio with all your might, fists balled up throwing careless punches in the direction of the swissman. said punches were merely thuds against his back paying no mind to your desperate, weak attempts at him to stop the assault on trent.

claudio stopped for a mere moment, he stood up, his sizeable frame towering over you like a mighty oak, hands stained red with your brothers blood, the crimson trickle down his knuckles and fingertips to the concrete below. he turned to face you, cocking his head to the side with slight inquisition. you tried to put on a brave face, tried to mask your tears for your brother’s sake. claudio leaned over you slightly with a small chuckle, his breath laboured, lightly fanning your forehead.

“what’s this? come to protect your brother now, have you?

he mockingly pet the top of your head, trent’s blood staining your hair as you gave a frightened whimper.

“aren’t you a brave little thing?”

you did not want to relinquish eye contact, afraid of his next move, although you could not help but notice orange’s pained groans from behind you. you turned your head, catching a mere glimpse of moxley whipping orange with a chain before claudio grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

your body stiffened up, feeling your heart drop into the pit of your stomach at the unwanted contact.

“not so fast, little one.” you mentally cringed at the nickname he anointed you with.

before you could even comprehend his words or even catch a glimpse of your brother laying face down in a pool of his own blood, claudio grabbed you by the wrists, his large hand could easily engulf both at once. he dragged you away from your brother, trent was unconscious, still breathing thank god, but he had not moved since your arrival. and orange…you just hoped mox would stop his assault soon.

claudio’s grip was tight, sure to leave red marks by the time he’d hopefully let go. despite your struggle and silent protest he would not let up. he led you behind a silver car, your mind in a daze, you did not comprehend the situation in front of you until he spoke up again. although his words absent in your ears.

you came to, peering down at your feet, horrified at the sight below. wheeler yuta hovered over your beloved, still continuing to bludgeon him with a screwdriver into that open wound on his forehead. your throat ran dry, feeling an overwhelming sense of nausea washed over you. you thought you’d run out of tears to cry, but seeing dustin in such a state it was heart breaking.

“dustin…” you whimpered. trying to break free from claudio’s grasp, to lunge yourself over your fiance and shield him from their violence. claudio’s grip only tightened, locking your arms behind your back, keeping you secured to his chest.

yuta stopped his assault momentarily, dropping the screwdriver by his side, staring up at you with a sickly grin as dustin reached a hand out in the direction of your voice. yuta’s empathy had been torn to shreds by the BCC; he was no longer that sweet innocent boy dustin helped train; he was a violent, vicious killer, hell bent on causing havoc with every step. once yuta had caught your distress, just as dustin’s fingertips met the tip of your shoe he began to bludgeon him again, using only his fist.

“stop…please…” you begged, voice barely above a whimper, throat hoarse and raw from pleading for mercy. you could feel claudio’s smirk against the nape of your neck, grinning from ear to ear at your lover’s torment.

mox sauntered around the corner with his usual, relaxed demeanour, completely unfazed by the bloodshed he and the rest of the bcc had caused. he threw the fork he’d used to bleed your brother dry. the clink of the metal against the concrete was sickening. he noticed you in claudio’s grasp, begging and pleading over the almost lifeless body of your fiancé. he smirked, a wicked thought conjuring in his mind.

he grabbed your shoulder, forcibly pushing you onto your knees, not quite eye level with dustin but enough that you could see the hope drain from his eyes. the bright green now a steely grey. jon cupped your cheeks directing your head to dustin, making sure that the image of him beaten and battered was permanent in your memory.

“look at him.” jon forced your face closer to dustin as wheeler held him up by the bloody roots of his hair. so close you could actually smell the iron of the crimson.

“he’s pathetic. can’t even protect himself let alone his girl. are you sure this is the guy you wanna marry, miss y/n?”

you remained silent, physically unable to speak as you stared into dustin’s eyes. they were glassy, bloodshot and burning from his own blood leaking into them. they were empty, void of any emotion other than heartbreak and worry. as much as he wanted to hold eye contact with you, a silent reassurance that he was alright, physically he couldn’t, the loss of blood proved too much for him, he was tired, broken, a shell of a man.

“it ain’t too late, dollface. if you wanna change your mind, you just give us a call” jon smirked, rubbing the bloody pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, following the action with a flirtatious wink. you felt sick to your stomach, that and the taste of iron upon your lips did not help.

you bared your teeth, biting down hard on his thumb, as hard as you could muster. not enough to draw blood by any means but strong enough that you hoped it would elicit a reaction from a masochist such as moxley. instead, he only smirked, a sick twisted, almost perverted smile, as if the sick bastard was actually enjoying himself.

“oh would you look at that” jon turned his head, now facing claudio, barely acknowledging the bite. “pretty little thing got some bite to her, she’d be perfect for us”

“i know a way we could put that mouth to better use” yuta chimed in, still holding dustin up by the scalp. dustin made weak attempts to protest the lewd remarks made by his former protege despite the metaphorical nails clawing at the inside of his throat, a disgusting burn that ached every time he swallowed. yuta released his grip, dropping the screwdriver in the process, his body loomed over yours, even more so as he knelt before you, keeping eye contact that you very much would have liked to avoid. he gripped your chin harshly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“i heard she’s pretty good at using it” that remark from yuta could be a testament to your sharp tongue or something more vulgar. you decided on the latter given his previous comment, which no doubt made you cringe internally with disgust.

jon simply tilted his head, signalling for claudio and yuta to cease their assault. claudio dropped your arms, shoving you to the ground with a rough thud, grazing your elbows against the concrete, you let out a sharp hiss, a sound which made dustin’s ears prick up with panic. yuta let dustin’s head fall to the floor, luckily you were able to place your hand underneath his temple before it made contact with the ground.

yuta said nothing, merely eyeing you as he sauntered off with the other two, offering your brother one last kick before leaving the parking lot. you crawled closer to dustin, managing to make it to your knees and cradle his head securely in your lap. his eyes closed, breathing had slowed. he was a wreck, drained of energy.

“dustin, look at me please…” you whimpered through tears, cupping his bloodstained cheeks in your palms. it took him a few seconds, eventually he let his eyes flutter open. he saw an angel. he saw heaven, he saw you. he opened his mouth to speak before you cut him off.

“shhh, don’t speak. it’s me, i’m right here” your voice shaky, still trying to quell the sobs that raged in your throat. he closed his mouth, instead raising his hand to cup your cheek, caressing the skin. he widened his eyes, horrified at the bloodstain his finger prints had left behind. he gulped thickly trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill, instead grabbing your palm, the one against his cheek, pressing his lips to your engagement ring, letting his lips linger there for a moment before pulling away, a sob rose in his throat, the once crystal white diamond now stained with droplets of ruby red.

it was as if you were an untouched canvas and him a tormented artist, every brushstroke of his skin against yours taints you. how could he let someone as beautiful as you be ruined by his blood?

he remained silent as the doctor stitched up his wound. practically dead to the world, in his own paranoia filled trance only brought back to reality for a short moment by the subtle squeeze of your hand in his. although his vision blurred, head spinning with a possible concussion, in his peripherals, he noticed the spots of red littered throughout the lavender sundress you were wearing. a large stain at the end of its skirt. once again, his blood had tainted your beauty. his eyes panned up, heartbroken as he noticed you were avoiding his gaze, was he really that horrible to look at right now? his eyes continued to scan your figure, your elbows were cut and beginning to bruise.

he was overwhelmed with anger for being so weak as to allow claudio and mox to get their hands on you. he saw red, yet was too overcome with exhaustion to mutter anything more than a whisper.

“you’re hurt…and the blood-” he barely croaked out, there was an unnatural rasp in his voice.

“i’m fine dustin and the blood is not mine” you smoothed over the back of his hand with your thumb in an effort to console him.

“but it’s mine…”

you gave a soft sigh in response, silently thanking the doctor as he finished stitching up dustin’s forehead. you were overcome with emotion yet could not bring yourself to say anything, just basking in the uncomfortable silence as dustin failed to meet your gaze. you’d never seen your love so broken, so fragile, he barely responded to the soft tug on his arm as you tried to rouse him out of his self induced trance.

the door swung open, orange stumbling inside, clutching his ribs with your brother on his arm. an equally worried statlander aiding your brother also. she made eye contact with you, offering a silent, yet apologetic smile for her absence. you turned to dustin, who now finally locked eyes with you, glancing into your teary bloodshot eyes with a minute of love and fear. he titled his heads towards the door, signaling for you to go check on trent. you gave his hand a rough squeeze, a quiet rebuttal to his action.

“go.” he muttered through a broken voice. you sighed softly, planting a gentle kiss to his forehead, right on his newly stitched up wound before going to check on your brother.

orange and kris sat trent down on a crate by the door. offering a parting glance to their teammate before going to check on dustin.

“jesus christ are you alright?” you questioned, panic ranging through your voice. “mom is gonna have a heart attack when she finds out”

“mom will be fine, she’s seen me in much worse condition.” trent’s lightheartedness seemed out of place for this current situation. still you had to commend him for being so chipper despite just receiving the beating of his life.

the room fell silent for a moment as you observed your brothers injuries. a cut to his forehead, near the hairline, the other atop his head. his shoulders and back torn to shreds. he gave a small wince as he placed a haphazardly made ice pack to his left shoulder.

“how’s he holding up?” trent motioned his head toward dustin, who sat at the far end of the room, remaining dead silent as kris and orange tried their best to communicate with him.

“physically he’ll be fine…” you began, turning back to face your love, seeing how he had not raised his head from the ground since you left his side.

“emotionally…i don’t know. he’s barely said a word since everything happened…”

your throat grew tight, sobs threatening to spill.

“do you think he’s mad at me for going out there?” you stuttered through your words, turning back to face your brother. trent bit the inside of his cheek, contemplating his next sentence

“although it was a stupid thing for you to do, he’s not mad at you, he loves you too much, kid”

trent pulled you into his shoulder, despite the seering pain. he hugged you tight, determined to comfort his little sister in her time of anguish.

“now go take care of him, i’ll be fine.”

“are you sure?” you questioned, swiping some of the congealed blood from his cheeks.

“yeah don’t worry about me, i got kris and orange to take care of me”

the drive home from daily’s place was met with uncomfortable silence. you helped dustin into the passenger seat despite his silent protests. opting to drive since the blood loss would prove too dangerous for him to drive. he sat there begrudgingly, staring dead into the road in front of him or on the odd occasion at him twiddling his thumbs in his lap. for hours this went on, you chose not to speak, for the heartbreak in your voice might set off tears for the both of you.

you just wanted to be home with him right now, safe and warm behind the walls that you owned, in your own bed cuddled up with your fiancé. the love of your life, but the drive from jacksonville to kentucky was more than ten hours and you were not going to risk the fatigue. instead opting to book a hotel for the night. dustin could not stop repeating the words moxley had been spouting to you during their conflict, finding himself agreeing with said words

he was pathetic. he did fail to protect you. he wasn’t even sure if he even deserved to be marrying you.

you could sense that he was in his head so you reached over to untangle his fingers to lace them with your own. reminiscent of the taxi ride to the park where he proposed. those three small squeezes of reassurance and comfort.

you pulled up into the hotel parking lot. throwing on your cardigan, wrapping yourself in the thick material so as to not worry any staff with what blood still stained your dress. dustin remained catatonic, only responding with simple yes’s and no’s to any question asked. you managed to secure a room despite the lateness and unexpectedness of your arrival, the both of you still remaining distant to each other inside the elevator as it took you to the third floor.

“are you alright?” you finally broke the silence as the two of you entered the hotel room. dustin set his bag beside the door, chewing his bottom lip anxiously.

“i uh…” he stammered. “i just wanna have a shower”

you nodded in response, taking him by the shoulder lightly, planting a long, delicate kiss to his cheek before letting him go. he offered you a small smile in return before hastily making his way into the bathroom. once you heard the door close you gave a heavy sigh, still trying to hold back tears, swallowing your sobs with a thick gulp. you knew he was hurting right now, you needed to be strong for him.

you removed your cardigan, grabbing your bags to place them into your bedroom for the night, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in the small corridor. you stopped in your tracks, eyeing yourself. your favourite dress, stained with the blood of your beloved, your knees bruised and elbows grazed, mascara smeared around your bottom lashes from crying, you looked like a mess but dustin evidently felt much worse.

you stripped yourself. only remaining in your bra and panties as you tossed the dress into the washing machine residing behind a sliding door next to the bathroom. it won’t do much in removing the stain fully but at least it will get most of the blood out.

through the mix of the shower water and the washing machine, soft sniffles could be heard from the bathroom, your heart sank as you pressed your ear against the door, hearing dustin’s muffled sobs from outside.

“dustin..?” you questioned quietly, he ignored you, the sound of his presence could still be heard. you pursed your lips tightly together. stripping off your bra and panties as you entered the bathroom. dustin faced away from you, the water hitting his back as he had his head pressed against the shower wall. small streaks of red flowed down his perfect body, despite the solemn scenario you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

you quietly entered the shower, pressing your body close to his, arms wrapping around his torso as you let the warm water encapsulate you both. you cupped his cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the stubble of his beard as you bared your soul to him through your gaze.

“why are you crying, my love?” he peered down at you, cheeks hot and eyes puffy with tears.

“i’m sorry…” he began “you shouldn’t have had to see me like that”

“like what…? bloody?-“

“no.” he interrupted harshly. a thick gulp rose in his throat.

“weak” he spoke up after a moment of silence.

“dustin you’re not weak-“

“yes i am!” he sobbed. “you heard mox. i’m pathetic! you were the one person in this world i wanted to protect and i couldn’t even do that right!”

he held onto you for dear life, so afraid of letting you go.

“why do you love me, y/n? how can you keep loving me after seeing me lose time and time again?” his breath shaky and hoarse

“you don’t deserve to be married to someone like me. you deserve a winner like claudio, someone who can protect you, like moxley…” he paused for a moment, a look of disdain growing on his handsome features

“hell…even yuta-“

“don’t you even start” you held his gaze when he began to avert his eyes.

“i don’t want claudio mox, and you know yuta would never stand a chance, dustin. i love you, i’ve only ever wanted you. if i were in a room with a hundred men i’d always choose you. i can’t wait to be your wife”

your voice cracked, begging for him to see reason in your words.

“but why?” he stammered. “why do you love me?”

“dustin…” you hummed, pressing your forehead against his.

“your smile brightens up my day, your laugh i could recognise anywhere. the way you scrunch your nose when you’re deep in thought or the way you stick your tongue out when you’re concentrating.”

you continued to praise him with words of your adoration.

“you’re so kind, so caring, to everyone you meet. you’re talented, smart, you’re so unabashedly you.”

you cupped his cheeks firmly in your palms, keeping your gaze fixated on his.

“i love the way the way you love me. you look at me like i’m the only woman in the world, you treat me like a queen even though sometimes i feel i’m not deserving of it. even when we’re at our worst, you never stop loving me. and that is why i love you”

dustin pursed his lips into a thin line, a soft exhale through his nostrils

“and i’ll always be there for you. win or lose. if you’re holding a belt up high or writhing in your own blood-“

dustin winced at the mention of blood.

“i’m never leaving your side”

you pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering there for a moment, feeling his bottom lip quiver, trying to muffle a sob. he gave a shaky exhale through parted lips. removing your hands from his cheeks, gingerly placing them around his neck.

“let me at least prove that i am a man deserving of your love”

“dustin, you don’t need to prove anything-“

“please, y/n!” his voice broke through a slight crack “just let me do the one thing i know how to do right”

you cocked your head in slight confusion, feeling dustin reciprocate your previous actions, cupping your cheeks, pulling you in for a passionate, fiery kiss. he moaned softly against your lips, smoothing the apples of your cheeks with the calloused pads of his thumbs.

“dustin-“ you managed to squeak in between kisses

“shh sweetheart, let me make you feel good”

he angled his hips against yours, swirling them slightly. you felt his cock hardening against your upper thigh, right in the axis of your hip, grinding himself into you. the water covered the both of you, with your eyes closed, it felt as if the two of you were entombed behind the curtains of a magical waterfall. you melted into the kiss, succumbing to the power of him, letting him embrace you tight against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin radiate against yours

“jump.” he demanded softly, breaking the kiss barely for a couple of seconds before diving in once more. you complied, jumping into his arms, your back pressed against the wall as he adjusted himself. his cock teasing your entrance momentarily, his tip tracing circles against your clit, feeling your wetness began to pool against your folds.

you jutted your hips forward slightly, the head of his cock entombed by your warmth, his mouth hung agape against yours, breathing moans of your praise against your skin. he guided himself in, a pleasured groan escaping his lips.

“fuck…so good for me” he breathed out, your warmth finally full with himself your hips guiding his movements with slow gentle swirls, feeling his cock swell inside you with pleasure.

he kept his movements deliberately slow, wanting your pleasure to be drawn out as long as he could hold it. you whimpered into his shoulder, teeth lightly nipping at the skin.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart,” he repeated like a mantra. “i’m sorry i scared you.”

“dustin…” you whined, trying to compose yourself as he slid in and out of you, hips rocking with your movements. “it’s not your fault…”

dustin hooked one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist with ease, the other hooked atop his arm. the sheer size difference between the two of you was enough to complement his strength in holding you up.

“i love you. i love you so fucking much it hurts…”

dustin’s groans increased with the speed of his thrusts, his hands gripped your flesh tighter, his kisses became more intense than before.

“god…i can’t wait to marry you…” he grunted, pressing open mouth kisses to the column of your neck. “fuck if i could marry you right now, i would sweetheart”

you remained silent for the moment, just letting yourself bask in the sound of his moans, letting them ring and reverberate in your ear. your walls clenched around him, a thick pulse rising between your thighs, arousal churning in your stomach as you cling to him. you felt no need to announce your orgasm, dustin already felt the impending gush of your sweetness, letting himself succumb to. his own arousal, muttering a chorus of “i love you”’s against your skin

he released, giving one final thrust, burying himself deep inside you. his cock pulsing against your walls, pumping load after load of hot cum deep into your void. you melted into him at the sensation, the warmth of his seed was enough to send you over the edge with a pleasured cry, making a mess of his cock as wetness drenched your inner thighs.

he held you there for a moment, making sure that he had completely drained himself inside of you before letting you down easy. your thighs weak, having to stabilise yourself between the wall and his broad chest for a moment. dustin rested his forehead against yours, trying to regain his breathing.

“let’s do it then…” you panted breathlessly

“huh?” he questioned, mind still hazy from his orgasm.

“let’s go get married.” you smiled sweetly up at his. he reciprocated the action, mind still coming too with your words

“wait, seriously? like right now?”

“yes, right now! you said you couldn’t wait”

dustin cupped your cheeks once more, peppering sweet kisses to each high point of your face, tears of joy now evident in his eyes, he stared down at you with such unfiltered adoration. such love in its purest form.

“i love you so much, sweetheart. more than you’ll ever know”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

#{ my fics : 🤍 }#chuck taylor #sexy chuckie t #chuckie t #aew x reader #chuck taylor x reader #best friends #aew #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut #aew imagine #aew wrestling #aew fanfiction

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snkbld · 2 months

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ"All you can think about is anger, hatred and even revenge. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAnd no one can save you."

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. maru, frustrated from battle, comes home after a long day and takes out his pent up anger on you. — drabble

i.・✦. *. ⋆

╰﹕ maru's exasperation

﹕ The heavy door to Orochimaru's hideout swung open with a violent creak, revealing a darkened chamber illuminated only by dim torchlight.

As the door slammed against the stone wall, Maru emerges, his normally composed countenance contorted with rage. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows on his face, emphasizing the intensity of his wrath.

His sharp eyes narrowed into menacing slits, and his lips curled into a snarl as he glared at you.

The air crackled with tension, and the serpent-themed motifs in the hideout seemed to writhe with a vicious energy, echoing his fury. “Get up.” He spoke through gritted teeth, his tongue dripping with saliva.

"Yes sir." you mumble under your breath as you follow his command. Maru's breath hitched, and his eyes narrowed at your submissiveness. But he makes no further response, just turning and striding to the opposite side of the chamber, where he stands brooding by one of the torches.

You can hear him taking deep, measured breaths as he tries to contain his anger. After a few moments, he finally speaks again, his voice low and dangerous. "Do you know what pisses me off the most?" You tilt your head questioningly.

He took a deep breath to settle his rage as he watched you approach. "Being underestimated." Orochimaru replies sharply, glaring at you from under his brow.

"People think they can do whatever they want with me, and get away with it. They think they can mess with my plans, try to control me, or push me around, and that I'll just sit there and take it. But they're wrong. I'm the one in charge here. I'm the one who makes the decisions." Maru's hand clenches into a fist as he says this, and you can feel the barely contained rage radiating from him.

As he stood before you, his height and imposing frame made you feel small. He regarded you with a mixture of coldness and intensity as his gaze travelled over your body.

There was something else beneath the surface, a deep sense of desire, a primal instinct to possess and dominate. Without notice, a slap stings your cheek, marking it with a sudden crimson welt. A wave of shock rips through you, and your heart races in surprise and confusion.

Orochimaru's gaze is cold and uncaring, devoid of guilt or remorse as he stares at you sternly, waiting for your reaction.

"Look at me." He orders you, voice sharp with anger as he grabs your face and turns it to face him. His fingers leave bruises on your cheeks where he grabs firmly, squeezing your face and leaving red streaks where his nails dig in.

Another slap comes, this one even harder than before, and you can feel the sharp sting of pain as your skin is marked once again. Tears fill your eyes, and your head spins as you struggle not to break down from the pain and humiliation. After a moment, Orochimaru lets go of your face, and you wince and turn away, face glowing pink from the swelling and mark.

Though the sting is still fresh on your face, a thrill runs through you as rage and fear mix with excitement at the thought of what will come next. This isn't the first time Orochimaru has treated you this way, and the intensity of his touch, the suddenness of his anger... it all makes you weak. Your heart is pounding, and your breath comes in ragged gasps. Your mind is on fire, and your body is tingling with anticipation.

His breath quickens, and you can tell with each passing minute, his anger is only growing stronger as he watches you quiver and wait for more. The urge to feel him touch you again grows more and more intense, and the thought of him using your body for his pleasure sends an electric jolt through you.

His hand slides down to your shoulder, slowly working its way down your neck and arms, then further along your waist. His other hand is working with equal deliberation, unbuttoning and undoing your clothes with care and methodical efficiency.

His hands move quickly and surely, stripping you of your clothes until you're completely naked without a moment wasted. Once your clothes are off, he steps back, taking in your slender body with a look of satisfaction, pleasure and delight.

You stand there, naked and exposed before him, unable to move, unable to even speak as your breath catches in your throat and your cheeks burn red from the heat of his gaze.

You feel vulnerable and foolish, but at the same time, a surge of adrenaline floods through you, heightening every sensation. There's a strange mixture of pleasure and fear, and your entire body seems to tremble with anticipation. You're torn between wanting to run and to stand there, completely at his mercy.

Maru seems to appreciate your reaction, and a cruel smile spreads over his lips as he takes in every inch of you, running his eyes over every curve, every inch of bare skin.

He takes a step closer to you once more, his breath hot and heavy on your neck, and you can feel the tension build and his desire grow as he draws near.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice low and hungry. As his hands roam over your body, you can feel the heat of his desire building and building, until it seems like it must explode.

As his body is pressed up against yours, you slightly grind yourself against his bulge. This act of slight defiance it only riles Maru up more.

He wraps his rigid hands around your throat, his nails piercing the back of your neck. He squeezes, forcing you to grasp for air as your hips buck. “Stupid mutt. What do you think you’re doing.”

Your lips curl into a bratty grin. “Use.. me..” you plead in between gasps.

His eyes flicker at your words. Almost immediately, he moves his other hand down to your cunt and teases you. “Is this what you want?” Inserting a finger, and then another, curling his fingers to feel your g-spot. “You’re filthy.” he scoffed.

Your moans filled the chamber as he takes advantage of your body. Pathetically enough, Maru merely fingering your cunnie is overwhelming for you. Watching you react to his harsh movements really gets him off.

He thrusts his fingers into you roughly. You moan as your back arches at his movements, hitting the wall of the cave.

Maru’s eyes narrow, his brows furrowing in concentration. He inserts a third finger, thrusting harder this time, stretching you wider. Your back arches, a mixture of pleasure and pain washes over you as you near your edge.

Noticing this, he pulls out of you quickly. “Not yet.” He hisses.

⤏ table of contents

#⌒#kimaru #fem!reader #smut #orochimaru #orochimaru smut #orochimaru x reader

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vaniri · 6 months

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You are my strength [Enver Gortash x Dark Urge]

Dark Urge has a nightmare, which leads her to believe Bhaal wants to punish her for liking Gortash too much. Gortash sees that something is wrong and tries to calm her down.

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Rating: M Category: F/M Word Count: 2 794 Warnings: blood, mentions of death and violence, angst and Durge's religious guilt (Bhaal is a bitch)

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Thank you @ugh-my-back for beta-reading 🖤 you're the best 🖤

(AO3 link in the comments)

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The cold night air was heavy with smoke and sharp metallic scent, so familiar to her and so beautiful. Everything around her was red - the moon shining bright above the city, all buildings she thought she knew but somehow couldn’t fully recognize, the paved street she’d walked so many times before, now turned into a crimson stream. She could hear people scream in horror somewhere in the distance, a sweet melody filling her cold vicious heart with joy. There were also bodies scattered on the ground, so many of them, all eviscerated and mutilated beyond recognition. And in the middle of it all there was her, but she had no memory of how she could’ve gotten here.

Someone was begging for their life and she noticed she was holding a frightened man, writhing in her grasp. Before she could even think or ask herself what the hell was going on, her own hands lifted him above her head and tore him apart, like a worn-out doll, letting his guts spill on the ground before her. Except these were not her hands, but some hideous claws covered in blood and gall. And she had no control over them, nor her own body. She could only watch as it tossed the remains aside and moved against her will, roaming the streets of Baldur’s Gate, killing every unfortunate that crossed her path-

She snapped her eyes open, not daring to move. Something was not right – wherever she was, this place was too dark, too quiet, and smelled way too clean. And she was not alone there, she could feel a strong muscular arm wrapped around her waist. Her vision quickly adjusted to the darkness, letting her get a better view of her surroundings. She wasn’t in her chambers, and definitely not at the Temple, but that ceiling and this entire room looked quite familiar to her. The memories of the evening before came back to her and she relaxed a little, realizing she was still in Gortash’s bed, where she fell asleep like a log after a session of particularly steamy sex, with the lord himself sleeping soundly beside her, his steady breath warm on the skin of her neck.

It was just a dream. Normally visions of a massacre excited her and filled her with delight, but this one was different. Worrying, disturbing even. She knew whose eyes she was looking through, she knew these stories well - Sarevok had told her many times about the greatest honor Bhaal could bestow upon his most devoted children. The Slayer, a horrid beast born from pure hatred, filled with it, that existed for one and only purpose - to kill in Bhaal’s name. Only the ones who made Father exceptionally proud could become the Slayer and she would want nothing more than to please and satisfy her god to the point of deeming her worthy of being turned into his most perfect weapon. But she was painfully aware that there was a heavy price to pay for it. Eventually the monster killed its bearer’s mind, ruined their self, claimed their soul, destroying them completely. That was not exactly the future she would see for herself.

She slipped out of Gortash’s embrace, careful not to wake him, and sat on the bedside. She needed some fresh air to clear her mind. Not wanting to risk flashing any unfortunate residents of the Upper City with her naked body, she grabbed Gortash’s shirt from the floor and put it on, buttoning it up on her way to the big balcony window.

She stood there enjoying the warm night air, watching the clouds waft through the starry sky. Gortash’s mansion was situated in one of the highest points in Baldur’s Gate, meaning he had a great view on the city and the harbor it was surrounding. It was truly beautiful, even at night, suffused with faint silver moonlight that made the waters of the River Chionthar sparkle like a sea of diamonds. But she never really cared about this place. Since she remembered, Baldur’s Gate and its outskirts were her murder-playground. Not home, not a place she had any emotional connection with. She just spilled blood in her Father’s name on these streets, carried out his will in every way he demanded, and one day she knew she would have to destroy this city for him. There was no point in getting attached to anything there.

She never cared for its people either. They were just her prey, sacrificial lambs born to be slaughtered. Oh, how she loved to take their lives, make them bleed, hear their screams and watch the light in their eyes fade until there was nothing but emptiness. Killing was her calling, her purpose and life’s greatest joy and even now she felt a thrill of excitement from simply thinking about it. She yearned to see this city painted in red, brought to its knees with her own cruel hands.

But Gortash lived here too and she did not want him dead.

She had never expected that he would become so close and so dear to her. A couple years earlier he reached out to her, providing information about some stolen bhaalist artifacts, exhibited in the House of Wonders like some common trinkets. He also offered his help in retrieving them, hoping to form a long-term partnership. She agreed, knowing it would be beneficial to have a man of his aptitude and importance at her disposal. After that they worked together many more times, developing mutual understanding and, more importantly, learning to trust each other and rely on one another. Before she even realized they started spending a lot of time together, more than it was necessary. More than it was wise. Gortash had many great ideas he wanted to execute, he was a smart and diligent man, and he wanted her to be involved in almost everything he did. He was very ambitious, which she always greatly admired, and treated her with utmost respect. The man was also very well-spoken and easy to talk with, so being in his company was a literal pleasure. And he was funny sometimes.

No wonder she genuinely liked him.

But it scared her how easily he made her stray from her purpose. How he was able to make her turn her gaze away from her Father. Even now, when she should be long back at the Temple, she chose to stay in his house and spend the night with him. She wanted his company more than she feared to displease Bhaal. And that frightened her. She had never felt like this before, towards anyone, and her own feelings confused her greatly. Shamed her. It was hard to believe she was ready to disobey her god in pursuit of acceptance and admiration from a mortal. And yet, she was standing in Gortash’s bedroom, almost completely naked, with no intention of stopping coming here whenever he asked her to or when she felt the need to visit him.

It was no coincidence that she dreamed about the Slayer tonight, when she was lying in Gortash’s arms. It was a warning, a cruel reminder of what would happen if she continued to defy Bhaal and make him angry. He would force her to kill Gortash, destroy everything she dared to care about, and all she could do was watch as her own hands tear her world to shreds.

A warm body pressing against her back snapped her out of her musing. She tensed feeling a firm arm wrap around her waist, ready to strike, instinctively reaching for her dagger she realized she didn’t have on her this time. Her captor’s hand caught her wrist midway, as if knowing exactly what she was going to do.

"Easy assassin, it’s just me." Gortash’s sleepy voice soothed her immediately. "No need to spill blood."

"And I thought you enjoyed it." She mocked him, reminiscing about the evening before.

"Come back to bed." He kissed her earlobe, and then planted a couple sloppy kisses on the side of her neck. "It feels empty without you."

"Sorry, I just needed some air."

"Is everything alright?" She turned to face him and even despite poor lighting it took him one look to know the answer. "Bad dreams again?"

"Just blood, gore and death, the usual. But this one was different. Father-" She hesitated. What was she supposed to say, 'I think Father just threatened to turn me into a monster that, given the chance, would happily kill you in seconds'? She didn't want to scare him, not him. "I need to go back to the Temple."

"I hoped you would stay with me till morning. And maybe we could even eat breakfast together." She could hear a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

"I… would love to. But I can't, not tonight."

If he was just a regular noble, a wealthy politician she kept close for his contacts and influence. Father would surely let her have a favorite lover, her dearest toy she wouldn't get bored of and discard that quickly. Maybe he would even let her keep him after she brought ruin to this world. But Gortash was not only a worshiper, but the goddamn Chosen of Bane, Bhaal's sworn foe and most despised enemy. His place was on his altar, not at his beloved spawn's side.

"You know my Father is not very fond of you."

"Yes, I am very aware of that."

"He will tolerate our alliance as long as it's beneficial to him. But he can't stand how close we've become. How close I let you become to me."

"Jealous not to be the only one present in your thoughts?"

Not to be present in my thoughts at all sometimes, she thought.

"What did he show you?" Gortash didn't even try to hide his concern.

"A… warning, I suppose? What may happen if I stay too close to you."

"I greatly respect your god, your Father, but he must let you live a little. Before you have to kill us all." A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Your leash is already short, there's no need to yank it so often."

"You are a thorn in his side. A distraction for his perfect spawn, the cause of my doubts and disobedience. An obstacle in his plans. I-" He deserved to know the truth, no matter how terrifying it was. They knew each other for so long, been through so much. He would not be scared of her. "Enver, he wants you dead. Gone, so you can corrupt me no more. Nothing would bring him greater joy than seeing you slaughtered upon his altar. And I'm afraid he will find a way to force my hand to wield the blade."

"He can't control you like that."

"I'm afraid he can. He may-"

"No. You won't let him control yourself like that."

He took her hand, the one responsible for so many deaths and so much pain, and gently pressed his lips against her palm, kissing it with pure adoration. And to show her how much he trusted her not to hurt him, he put her hand on his chest where she could feel his heart, beating in a steady rhythm.

"I've known you for a while now and I can say with all certainty that I do know you, mind, heart and soul. We've been through a lot together, good things and shit we barely survived. I saw how strong you are, both on the battlefield and with your resolve. I saw you struggle with your urges and always remain in control of them. I saw you make decisions, your very own, and then live with their consequences. I saw you, a vicious and cold-blooded serial killer, spare lives. And I knew I could trust you. I knew you were not just a mindless puppet controlled by Bhaal, but your own person, with your own doubts, values and determination. And you never betrayed my trust. I put my life in your hands on many occasions and I would do it again, without a second thought, because I know you would not fail me. I know you. And I trust you completely." He lifted her chin with his hand, making her look him in the eye. "I'm not afraid of your Father. Because you stand between me and him. And you would never let him hurt me. Your will is stronger than him."

She was ready to disagree and argue, tell him that he didn't know what he was talking about. But deep down she knew that maybe there was some truth in his words, that he did know her, probably even better than she did. Better than Bhaal. Gortash saw right through her, not afraid to look deeper than she would've ever let anyone. And what surprised her the most was how okay she felt with that.

She'd never had anyone like this before, someone who knew her so well and still accepted her as she was, despite it all. Someone she accepted in her life as well. When she was a child, her adoptive parents tried to reach out to her, become a family, but she was unable to feel any connection with them. She killed them feeling nothing but emptiness. Later she had her congregation, her devoted followers ready to kill for her and her profane Father. They respected her greatly, revered her as they should be, but for them she was just an object of worship, a religious icon they prayed to and merciless leader they feared to disobey. Nothing more. She had no friends, no regular lovers and no steadfast allies. Of course there were also other bhaalspawn, her family, but these vipers only waited for her to turn her back on them, so they could stab it and take her place in the favoring gaze of their treachery-loving god.

And then she met Gortash.

He was like an open book to her, completely honest from the very beginning and never hiding anything, saying that only alliances built on trust and mutual understanding could survive and thrive. She was cautious at first, sensing some kind of ruse, but no backstabbing ever came and she started slowly warming up to him. Eventually he earned her trust, and her friendship. With him she could finally let her guard down and relax, knowing that in case of anything bad or unexpected happening, Gortash always had her back. She didn't even catch the moment when she started calling him Enver. She was not afraid to show him her softer and vulnerable side, just like he showed her his, and she loved how comfortable she felt in his company. In his arms she was not a killer, not a cult leader, not a daughter of a god. She was just a woman, enjoying the warmth and affection from a man she adored.

He was so damn right, she would do everything to keep him safe. She would fight her urges, resist the Slayer and openly defy her god. She could not lose Gortash, she could not lose that little piece of her own world she fought so hard to build, no matter the price.

"You are my strength." She whispered, feeling a sudden surge of warmth wash over her. "With you I can do everything."

"I know." He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. "That's why I'll remain at your side as long as I draw breath, and then my spirit will find its way back to you. Together, we're unstoppable."

"Every day I pray to my Father, beg him to let me kill you last, keep you at my side till we're the last people alive. I want you to die with me, I want to have you beside me when I am dying."

"And I want to be beside you. Only then I would let your Father guide your hand to stop my beating heart." He took her face in his hands and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "If this world must end, I want it to be by your hand, and for your glory. It will be my honor to help you fulfill your destiny, to witness your triumph as a bhaalspawn, and then fall into eternal slumber in your arms. When the time is right."

She couldn't contain herself any longer and possessively claimed his lips, dragging him into an intense and fierce kiss that led them both back to bed, where they shared another moment of heated passion. After that, spent and completely exhausted, they fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

No nightmares bothered her anymore that night.

#enver gortash #gortash x durge #durge x gortash #durgetash #dark urge #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #duck pecks her keyboard

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